


If you would know me at all

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: War and Peace (TV 2016)
Genre: Brighton Pavillion, English country estates, Flirting, Male Prostitution, Mild Sexual Torture, Multi, Not necessarily historically accurate, Paris - Freeform, Russia, Sexual Tension, Sexy Times, all manner of Dolokhov-ness, balls and parties, probably a bit of Dolokhov whump to come, sauciness, snogging in cupboards, vivid fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 50,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15180866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: Based on my idea of what might happen to Dolokhov post War and Peace. Some of the ideas are based on real places - although they may not be historically accurate 'timeline wise'.The main female character is called Elizabeth Middleton, she is the only daughter of Brigadier Charles Middleton and Lady Sarah Harrow - she's feisty, intelligent and highly eligible.....however none of the English nobility is to her taste and her parents are beginning to despair!At the opening of the Brighton Pavillion in 1822 a dashing Russian Captain attends the same party and makes quite an impression on Elizabeth.





	1. Across the room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LulaIsAKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/gifts).



Elizabeth Middleton stood admiring the general grandeur of the scene. Everyone from London society had trekked down to Brighton for the occasion; she had fortunately had less distance to travel having visited her father's new house further along the coast in Lewes. She's been able to watch the construction of the amazing buidling she was now stood inside over he past months and had thought at the time how gaudy and ostentatious it looked....she was correct and now it was completed she couldn't help but bite her lip to prevent a fit of the giggles everytime some London snob passed her regaling at the top of their voice how 'Amaaaazing!' and what an asset the building was.....and what elegant taste the Regent had!  
Taste?!!!! Elegance?!!!!!  
The fact that these people bored her, but ultimately amused her meant that her endless round of 'seasons' in search of a suitable husband were not completely without merit.  
It wasn't that Elizabeth was an unattractive prospect - far from it! Her father a Brigadier, reknowned for his bravery, wit and generosity and her mother, Lady Sarah Harrow as was, daughter of the Earl of Harrow, brought up with all manner of grace and deportment and married off to an eligible match - fortunately one that actually involved mutual love!  
Elizabeth had been their only child after several failed attempts and her father had indulged her. She'd received an education (albeit from a series of tutors rather than at school or university) and for her first 2 seasons she had been able to enjoy meeting a wide selection of friends, and had received numerous proposals, all of which she'd flatly refused.  
And so, here she was again; holding herself tall and regally. She had natural grace, inherited from her mother, but years of training and schooling had instilled a confident and assured manner to her movements. She was wearing a very fetching gown in eau de nil silk. It had the fashionable high waist, which had the added bonus of pushing her shapely breasts out and forwards below her smooth, creamy decolletage. The small, capped sleeves highlighted her slim arms and her high cream gloves were of the finest and softest leather. Ruffles of the same coloured silk trimmed the hemline of the gown and the sash under her bustline was a deep, creamy coloured satin, ending in a trailing ribbon, slightly off centred at the front and ending in a small cluster of pearls.  
Her elegant neck was held high, with a cream ribbon tied prettily around it and her glossy, brown curls were fashioned into a simple, but effective style, decorated with small cream roses and pearl barettes.

Making her way through the numerous rooms which were in use for the guests she spotted her dear friend Emily Fitzallen - her auburn hair and height not dissimilar to her own making her easy to find in the throng of people - most of whom were familiar to Elizabeth.  
The 2 friends greeted each other with clasped hands and warm embraces. They chattered quickly and effectively about who they had seen, what they thought of the ridiculous looking building and also the party.

Over to the side, in a small group of gentlemen of various ranks, an unfamiliar face had noticed the animated and refreshingly unaffected interaction of the two, tall and elegant young ladies. Despite trying to focus on the introductions being made he was much more interested in the dark curls and sparkling eyes of the lady in the pale green gown.

Elizabeth and Emily made their way across to one of the tall, open windows; which were fashioned as doors. Their discussion had been around the various gowns and their opinions on some of the more hideous as well as the enviously beautiful, especially those worn by some ladies of the French court who had been invited.  
It was at this point that Elizabeth noticed him.....he was staring in an almost rude and lascivious manner.....and directly at her!  
"Who is that man? The one in the military uniform," Elizabeth asked.  
Emily glanced around and immediately saw the man in question - tall, well built and with dark hair reaching to the scarlet rim of his collar. His hooded eyes were very clearly focussed upon her friend. Emily smirked as she met the gaze of Elizabeth once more.  
"He looks as though he knows what I look like beneath my chemise!" Elizabeth whispered.  
Emily giggled and raised her brows, "Well my dear, according to his reputation, there's nothing he hasn't seen beneath a chemise! He's a scoundrel!"  
Elizabeth had maintained eye contact across the room with the deep, hooded and almost obscene gaze of the 'mystery man'.  
"Is he French?" she asked. Emily shook her head, "Russian, and by all accounts he's pretty much unacceptable in society there; despite being a very respected war hero! I mean, can you imagine what he must have done? To be thrown out of society....in Russia?!" Emily was gabbling somewhat and Elizabeth was barely able to hear and make sense of her friend's response; she was too busy being mesmerised by the swarthy, inpenetrable stare and trying to not to imagine what he'd done to deserve social rejection.  
Elizabeth forced herself to break his gaze, but allowed her eyes to swoop across the rest of his form - high, black boots, incredibly tight cream breeches, black, decorated military jacket with epaulettes and flashes of scarlet befitting a captain....and each item of clothing appeared very well filled out by a lean, muscular body beneath it.  
___________  
Lord Alistair Croft noticed his acquaintance's distraction and followed his gaze to discover the recipient of his interest.  
"Who is she?" the Russian asked in his flawless French.  
His young, English friend slapped him on the shoulder and laughed, "Many have tried to seduce Elizabeth Middleton, and none have succeeded my friend!"  
The glint in his eye and smack of his lips as he downed a glass of claret resulted in a slight shake of lord Croft's head.....but maybe it would take a Russian with a reputation for debauchery to tame the elusive Miss Middleton?  
__________  
Emily had been babbling about some of the supposed exploits of the Russian; fastening a live bear to a soldier and pushing him into the Volga; having an affair with one of the highest Duchesses in Russia - the wife of his best friend by all accounts; the various duels he had fought and won; the number he'd killed and his apparent love of in battle; his alleged dalliances with both sexes......and yet Elizabeth couldn't quite tear her mind away from imagining that roguish mouth, and the moustache framing it, as it worked it's way along the skin of her neck, breasts and down to her.....oh my.....if only she'd brought a fan!  
"Do you know his name?" and as she spotted the alarmed expression from Emily she added, "So that we may avoid him in society of course."  
Emily replied, "His name is Captain Dolokhov......Fedya..........or rather 'Bed-ya!" and they dissolved into giggles most inappropriate to their place in society!


	2. May I interest you in some ices?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still at the Brighton Pavilion grand opening, Elizabeth and Dolokhov are introduced formally.

Dolokhov was whisked away to be introduced to a stream of fellows who were eager to shake the hand of such a war hero, and to hear his tales of the Russian front and battles against Napoleon's men. He had a natural charisma which meant that several chaps instantly described him as their 'good friend' or 'my Russian chum', despite only having known him for an hour.  
Elizabeth and Emily made the expected round of introductions and caught up on the gossip, such as it was, from several other acquaintances. Emily's brother had been to school with Lord Croft, so she indicated for him to join their group when it was feasible. He had met all except for one of the ladies in the group and he greeted them warmly and properly in turn.  
"So, " Emily began, eagerly, "What of this Russian chap? He's as dashing a fellow as ever was seen....tell us all of his secrets!"  
Lord Croft joined in the laughter of the group, but shook his head, "I'm afraid that is a gentleman's privilege - if he indeed has any secrets then I am sure he hasn't told me any as yet.....although he's a smashing fellow and has some incredible tales to tell....apparently he was in Persia and killed a sultan - Lord knows how! Possibly with his bare hands - they are like solid stone when he clasps one's hand!" and he glanced over to the group containing the man in question who had just erupted into peals of laughter as another of his anecdotes appeared to end.  
One of their friends, called Cora Asquith, fluttered behind her fan somewhat, "Papa has forbidden me to be introduced to him....says he is unworthy of even being invited into our set!"  
Elizabeth held her tongue, despite knowing that Cora Asquith's father's fortune had been gained from the sale of slaves from Africa and only went back 20 years, she therefore had no place whatsoever in claiming a higher moral and ethical place in society than another.   
Elizabeth despised snobs, and despised those who looked down on misfortune and poverty even more so. her father had instilled in her the concept of what it is to be a master and to run an estate - for the best possible fortune of all, not the few.  
Discussion continued within the group about numerous topics and eventually the gong was sounded for refreshments.   
Emily's brother, George offered her his arm, and Lord Croft obligingly escorted Elizabeth into the tables laden with all manner of dishes. They sat informally at long, rectangular tables, seating about 20 people each. Elizabeth requested some white soup, which was always a fairly safe bet, and was brought a bowlful along with some oatcakes.  
Lord Croft sat to her right and on her left was a vacant seat, until it was filled by Freddie Ayeclyffe - one of Elizabeth's most insistent suitors. It had become almost a tradition that he would propose to Elizabeth midway through each 'season' and she would in each occasion turn him down - perfectly pleasant though he was, Elizabeth did not have any attraction towards him. Following his first proposal she had discussed the issue with her father, and to her delight he had encouraged her 'never to marry someone who is pleasant; but to wait for the one who is worthy.' Poor old Freddie.....he was like a lovestruck puppy!  
From his position on another table Dolokhov watched her as she interacted with him perfectly amicably; she even flashed him demure and delicious smiles from beneath her dark lashes, but her manner appeared no different to the way she had behaved towards her female companion earlier in the evening. Dolokhov however was being drawn in, deeper and deeper to discover more about this beguiling creature. There was something about her; he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but she seemed more interesting a prospect than the other ladies he'd met. His immediate thought was of bedding her, but as she wasn't married that wouldn't be possible......and he wasn't the marrying type!

Several ladies were leaving the tables, to take their toilette, and the men began to filter out of the room also, either to join card games, smoke or continue their flirtations with pretty girls. Elizabeth had left the table and Dolokhov spotted that she had veered away from the privacy of the dressing rooms and instead ventured into the long gallery which was planted with palms and enough greenery to resemble a forest. The Russian excused himself from his group and gathered 2 goblets of frozen fruit ice from a table before following Elizabeth's path into the gallery.

Elizabeth was enjoying the calm and coolness of the plants. She recognised various species from her own studies and was enjoying reading some of the Latin namecards for other, more exotic specimens. She had located a charming spot, seated towards the far end of the room, the noise from the other party goers distant. Her chosen seat was one of a pair, facing in opposite directions but placed side by side. She had allowed her eyelids to close, enjoying the perfume from the yellow jasmine flowers, which were heady in the midnight warmth.  
"May I interest you in some ices?" drawled the deep baritone voice, in perfectly accented French as he relaxed his body, languidly into the second chair.  
Elizabeth was slightly startled and turned slightly towards the deeply masculine form beside her. She accepted the proffered goblet of iced raspberry dessert and watched as he licked his spoon clean of the same pink cream.   
He growled decidedly as the sweet concoction trickled down his throat and crossed his booted ankle across his knee in a perfectly elegant image. Elizabeth brought a spoonful of the dessert to her lips, which she realised had fallen open slightly as she watched him.  
"You do realise the scandal of this?" Elizabeth quipped, using French as their communal language as she continued to raise dainty spoons to her lips, savouring the cold and icy crystals on her tongue.  
Her swarthy companion raised a dark brow, "How so?" and continued to circle his tongue around each spoon raised to his slightly uneven lips.  
"Sir, we have not been introduced. I don't know what the procedure is in Russia, but in England it is customary to only approach those people one has been formally introduced to; through a common acquaintance....and a gentleman should never approach a lone female in this manner!" Elizabeth pursed her mouth and Dolokhov noticed a delightful sparkle of mischief behind her green eyes.  
"Well then....it's a good job I'm not widely regarded as a gentleman!" he purred, running his tongue around the rim of his silver goblet; his eyes never leaving the twinkling ones of his companion.  
Elizabeth shifted slightly in her seat due to the pleasing warmth she could feel spreading between her thighs as she focussed on his tongue and moustache. She smiled quite brazenly back at him, "And it's a good job that I care not a jot for social niceties. Elizabeth Middleton, pleased to make your acquaintance," she said, holding out her hand.  
He took the hand she offered him and in one swift movement unhooked the small button at her wrist, turned it in his hand and applied his still cold lips to the warm skin of her inner wrist.  
The warm sensation flooded through her and she felt her eyes glaze slightly as he looked up at her, his mouth still close enough to her skin to feel his breath.  
"Captain Fyodor Dolokhov; completely at your service madame," he replied, huskily before releasing her hand, after a fraction too long in his grasp.  
"Of course, you realise that this does NOT count as an appropriate introduction!" Elizabeth replied, rising from her seat, the Russian scoundrel not so lacking in manners as to not rise with her.  
"Then I look forward to meeting you properly on another occasion," and he inclined his head slightly towards her, stared pointedly at the mounds of creamy skin heaving under his gaze and barely concealed by the eau de nil fabric ruched over them, and strolled with the fluidity of a panther back towards the throng.  
Elizabeth found herself unable to catch her breath or move momentarily and found herself considering that never before had anyone had this effect upon her. She liked it. And she found herself suddenly eager to find out more about him; to see more of him; to discover what those cool lips would feel like pressed against her own. She felt reckless.  
__________  
Fedya Dolokhov found himself trying to control the urges of his own loins as he made his way back to the main room; although he would far sooner have preferred to remain in the sole company of Elizabeth Middleton. He couldn't shake the feel of her buttery, soft skin beneath his lips, and he'd been transfixed watching her steady breathing pushing her perfectly sized breasts against the fabric of her gown. He licked his tongue across his lips, imagining running it along their undulations and slowed his pace in order to enjoy the sensation of his erection pressing against his breeches, before he allowed the image to fade and another took it's place, deflating his ardour swiftly - images from the battlefields were useful for just such a purpose.  
"Dolokhov!!!" came the shouts from several groups, and he beamed openly, moving towards a card game which was in progress and which he spied could be easy pickings for a practised player such as himself. He'd bide his time, play his hands and take them for everything they had.....eventually.....he always did!


	3. Business as usual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dolokhov fantasises about Elizabeth by doing one of those things that he loves to do!

The card games continued long after the other guests, including Elizabeth had retired.   
She'd watched him for a moment- his jacket removed and cravat loosened and a wide, tooth baring grin across his face as he won a round and scooped up his winnings.  
She had wanted a formal introduction to him, but perhaps that was unseemly since he'd not met her father. Anyway, maybe the opportunity would arise again; she would certainly listen out for the name of Fyodor Dolokhov on guest lists, and his face would certainly be difficult to remove from her vivid imagination.  
Just as she turned to leave he noticed her retreating form and almost resented his good fortune at the card table, but the money he'd won would enable him to remain in England for a good while longer.  
______________________  
His luck held and by the time the sun was almost rising there were a handful of gents remaining and Dolokhov had cleaned up; his coffers well and truly filled.  
He had been introduced to a few of the men who remained, and of course they ALL knew who he was, and about his reputation.  
He stood and drained his claret glass, "So gentlemen, where does one visit in this town for amusement?" his raised brow and leering mouth left the men in no doubt as to his true meaning, and one, by the name of Charles Courtney clasped his shoulder in a friendly gesture,  
"What does your taste run to?" he asked.  
Dolokhov pursed his lips, "Brown hair........and all their own teeth!" he added, collecting his jacket from where it was draped over the back of the chair.  
"How young?" came the second question.  
Dolokhov looked somewhat uncomfortable, but answered swiftly, "I do not have a penchant for girls......I only fuck where there's thatch!"  
Charles and another man, called only by the name Archie lead their Russian friend out of the pavilion and into the wiry backstreets of the Brighton Lanes. Several confusing turns later they were outside a blue door, Charles and Archie's faces were recognised upon it's opening and all three were ushered inside and made welcome - a new face meant new money.  
The Madam was a large woman with brassy, almost orange hair which she had styled with feathers and bells. Her green corset barely covered her voluptuous breasts and her frilled skirts were split to reveal fleshy thighs covered with stockings, fastened above her knees.  
Fedya was introduced and fawned over, especially when it became evident that he spoke very limited English, and when he did his accent was deliciously clipped and masculine....several of the females swooned over him and tried to catch his eye.  
Charles spoke to the proprietor and she clicked her fingers, the females lining up coquettishly.  
Dolokhov surveyed the choice; he was horny and wanted to fuck, but he wanted Elizabeth, not any of these professional whores. But maybe a decent seeing to would get her out of his mind; he could not start an affair with an unmarried woman.....and he wasn't a marrying man!  
He held his hand out to a slender, brown haired and relatively clean looking young lady who flashed him a smile - showing relatively decent teeth - and led him towards the rooms behind the main salon.  
The proprietor spoke in her ear as they left, and she nodded - she then spoke in incredibly poorly accented French as he walked past, explaining that the young lady knew that he wanted sex, and that anything else he'd have to act out or demonstrate because she spoke no French, or Russian!  
Dolokhov smirked......he'd definitely waste no time showing her what he wanted, thinking about Elizabeth had made him hard again and he needed release.

With the door closed behind them the woman pointed to herself and said, in that loud and slow manner people often use when they are speaking to a foreigner, "Nina."  
He nodded and removed the long, flimsy coat she was wearing - he didn't want to call her by that name. She pointed at him, "You? "  
Dolokhov removed his own jacket and cravat and began to unbutton his waistcoat, he pointed at himself, "Captain," he replied in English as she pushed him to sit on the bed and began to remove his black boots.  
He hastily removed his shirt and breeches and yanked at the ties of Nina's stays roughly.  
"My, you're a feisty one aren't you," she giggled as he continued his brusque and almost savage removal of her corset.  
Dolokhov didn't want her brash accent permeating his fantasy, so he covered her mouth with his hand as he began sucking at her breasts, creating taut, hard nipples which he lapped at with his moist, hot tongue.  
She freed his erection from his braies and made a slight sob in her throat as it stood out from his body; thick, hard and unforgiving. Thankfully the attention he was giving her breasts would help moisten her.  
He abruptly ceased his attention to her chest and pushed her firmly back onto the bed, she laughed and made the usual 'ooh and ahh' noises he'd come to expect from a paid whore as he knelt between her legs, which opened for him immediately.   
In his fantasy with Elizabeth he would cover her folds with kisses, explore her with his tongue, delve his fingers inside her and bring her to ecstasy in his arms....but this woman was being paid to pleasure him, so he reached instead for his jacket and removed his sheath from the inner pocket.  
"Oh, a proper gent are we?" Nina giggled as she took it from his grasp and stretched it to cover his length; the feel of her slender, but firm fingers on him was exciting and this gesture from her earned his respect. In his generosity he slid his hand between her legs and pressed 2 of his thick fingers inside her, skilfully seeking out the small spot within her walls which when manipulated was both heaven and torture.  
Her moans and sobs didn't annoy him as much as when she actually spoke, and he enjoyed watching her squirming against his hand, her eyes opening and closing as waves of rapture flooded through her.  
His own throbbing need however soon took over, and he closed his eyes, imagining himself sliding inside another welcoming quim. He exhaled as he felt her accommodate him and kept his head back and eyes closed as he worked himself in and out of her centre. He tried to blot out her sounds, imagining instead what noises Elizabeth might make with his cock buried within her....he could see her sparkling eyes in his mind, and that delicate tongue of hers licking the cold, raspberry ice from the dainty spoon. He growled as he felt himself harden further, and this resulted in a loud moan from Nina as she stretched still further to accommodate him.  
"Oh, Captain...." she gasped as she grasped at his back, she made her mouth available to him, but like most clients he preferred not to kiss his whore and instead focussed his attention on the mounting pressure he could feel within himself.  
He scowled however in the realisation that his fantasy with Elizabeth wasn't having the desired effect for him - he just couldn't imagine the shrill noises emanating from Nina coming out of Elizabeth....no matter how deep his cock was inside her.  
He withdrew with a torrent of Russian swear words and savagely flipped Nina over, with little courtesy or regard he yanked her hips up and thrust his slick, throbbing length fully into her folds once more and began a more usual, relentless pounding of her entrance, his sack slapping against her bare skin and his fingers clawed into her hips; knuckles white.  
Nina took what he gave her; she was thankful that they'd at least started in a more comfortable position; but she noticed the change in him - it was almost like a different man was now fucking her; a man who only cared for his own release.  
She heard his breathing become ragged, and in a few more shuddering thrusts he spent himself, with a shout at the point of release.  
He remained momentarily inside her, partly to enable his cock to shrink down and ease extraction, but partly because he felt an odd sensation; if he didn't know himself better he'd swear it was shame.  
Nina was giggling and making eyes at him, babbling away in English; presumably telling him that he was amazing, and the best ever - that was usual for these transactions; but he didn't want to be there with her, and much as he usually continued with at least 2 or 3 more encounters he felt done in for the night, and now just wanted the solace of a warm bed.  
He left what he considered to be a generous payment, and from the look on Nina's face he'd been overly generous.   
"Thank you, Nina," he offered in his clipped English before he departed.  
He walked out of the whore house and found his way to the seafront, he knew that he could walk along it and eventually reach the barracks where he would be welcomed, such was his reputation and rank.  
The sea calmed his thoughts as he strolled, the sun rising was a perfect, peach circle. He knew that somewhere, not too far away, Miss Elizabeth Middleton would be sleeping.....he wondered if perhaps her dreams would include a dark, Russian soldier. He snorted at his own ridiculousness - why would she dream of him? - what could he offer any woman? No, he could fuck the ladies when their husbands bored them, but he realised he himself was bored of that.  
And Elizabeth Middleton wasn't married.  
He strode towards the barracks with more conviction than he felt......at least he could feel at home with some fellow soldiers.


	4. Not a positive impression!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dolokhov makes a bold claim about the females he has met in England, which alters Elizabeth's view of him, and she plans to return home to Northumberland for her annual family house party weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belmont House does exist in Lewes, and there is a Middleton Hall Estate in Northumberland - Google them and you'll get a feel for the features and style - historically they may not have been built exactly at this time; but hey....it's fiction!

Dolokhov breakfasted in the barracks along with a rapt gaggle of young recruits, although he of course was seated with the officers. Their conversation naturally covered battles and warfare before turning itself to females.  
"So, Dolokhov, what did you make of our distinguished ladies? All of England's most eligible was at the opening of the pavilion....did any catch your eye?" asked one of the officers by the name of James Pargetter who was able to speak French fluently.  
Dolokhov downed his glass of porter and speered a piece of devilled kidneys with his fork; "I can say with some conviction that none of the ladies I was introduced to swayed my eye," and he chewed on the meat, mouth open in a scandalous display of table manners.  
The table guffawed at his comment, "None? My man, you met Lady Caroline Fanshawe, and her sister Margaret; they are two of the most highly regarded women in society!" Pargetter continued.  
Dolokhov shrugged and continued devouring his meal, "Vapid, uninteresting and quite plain in my opinion," he responded.  
Several heads around the table shook, but with smirks - any of them would have given their right arm for the attention they had bestowed upon him the previous evening, and here was the Russian, almost annoyed by their attention!  
"Damn you man, you are a one. Maybe they'll impress you more once you learn a little more of their language," Pargetter suggested; receiving a small nod from Dolokhov.  
He stood and scanned the table with his dark, almost savage eyes, "I feel like some swordplay......who may I tempt?" he drawled, causing several of the officers to rise and begin discussing who should have first crack at challenging the renowned Russian.   
Several hours later, Dolokhov was down to his shirt; hair and chest dripping with sweat, and not one opponent had come close to beating him. The ranks of soldiers and officers observing however had an even higher regard for the Russian in their midst, and several were discussing how to ensure that he was invited to their various functions and gatherings of the season.  
_________________  
Elizabeth was meeting Emily and several other acquaintances for tea prior to travelling back to her family home. She spent much of the season in town, and Belmont House in Lewes had made the trip to Brighton pleasurable for her - she'd accommodated several of her friends alongside her there since her parents had remained in Northumberland at Middleton Hall. However, her father always liked to give a weekend house party - a long weekend, Friday to Tuesday, and she wanted to be home in time to help with the arrangements.  
The small group was seated in one of the popular teahouses overlooking the seafront; Emily was sat next to one of her suitors, Charles Courtney and he'd asked a school chum of his, James Pargetter, and officer in the army and stationed at the Brighton barracks to join their party.  
Talk inevitably went to the party at the pavilion, and also inevitably to Captain Dolokhov.  
"He's incredibly handsome in that almost brutally masculine way," Emily twittered, noticing the scowl that flashed across the fair haired, slender Charles Courtney's face. he could hardly share his knowledge of where they had gone to after the party - it would put him in as bad a light at the Russian!  
"The man's an absolute rogue......although he is a jolly good sport!" was all he offered in response.  
Elizabeth remained quiet, listening for any pieces of relevant information. He'd apparently been introduced to some rather eligible young ladies - quite a shock given his reputation; but the general feeling from most was that his soldiering prowess and bravery placed him higher than his financial background or dubious personal life.....only Cora Asquith's father appeared to disagree!  
After several more minutes of discussion about Dolokhov's general demeanour and manners throughout the party - including the information that he could down a full glass of claret in one gulp and that he'd spent the night at the barracks - attention had turned to Officer Pargetter for further details.  
"What can I tell you about the chap? He eats well, laughs at japes.....oh and not a one of us could out fight him with a rapier today.....some of his movements were downright lethal - could have sliced dear old Bobby Waltham's head clean in two if he'd wanted to!" James offered; making the some of the ladies at the table wrinkle their noses with distaste , and others raise their brows suggestively as they no doubt imagined a sweating and determined Captain Dolokhov twirling a sword and focussing those dark, hooded eyes on his prey......Elizabeth was one of the latter!  
Emily was brave enough to ask the question that was on the lips of all of the females, "Did he mention a regard for anyone in particular? " she asked, saucily, and giggled to cover her blushing cheeks.  
Pargetter pushed the remains of a sandwich into his mouth and laughingly retorted, "Oh he had a lot to say about the ladies he'd been introduced to; said he'd never met a more vapid and uninteresting group of ladies in his life, and that none of them held any interest....even said they were all plain!"  
He and the other men laughed loudly and several of the females sniggered.  
"How charming!" squealed Emily, thankful that she hadn't spoken to him throughout the evening and therefore could not be considered in his assessment of English ladies.   
Elizabeth on the other hand sipped her tea, thankful for something to occupy her hands and to swallow down the slight lump in her throat.  
She was shocked - at his comment, but also at her reaction. She felt on the verge of tears - which she knew to be ridiculous given she'd only been in the man's company for less than an hour....and she certainly hadn't thrown herself at him.   
But he didn't like her......he thought her vapid, unintelligent and plain! Along with all the other English beauties from the previous evening.  
Well.....that was that. She'd push thoughts of the swarthy Russian from her mind. She wouldn't fantasise about his cool lips on her wrist, or the seductive gaze from his green eyes. And she wouldn't add thoughts of him powerfully and masterfully dispatching the likes of Pargetter with his sword into her imagination......no, she wouldn't do that.   
She'd go back home, and go back to how she had been before Captain Dolokhov had even featured in her life.


	5. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth returns home, traveling the long journey with a heavy heart, but imagines that Captain Dolokhov will not feature any further in her life.  
> Dolokhov attends a party, but can't stop thinking about Elizabeth....even whilst doing all manner of unseemly things in the library and stables!!!!

Elizabeth travelled to London the following day with her small group of friends. Chatter was easy, and they spent a significant part of the journey discussing gowns - the style worn by the ladies from France who'd been present at the opening of the Brighton Pavilion had given them all thoughts for restyling or ordering new designs.  
Once in London, Elizabeth would overnight with Emily and her family, who had a large house in Belgravia. An invitation was waiting for them; drinks and cards at Lord Croft's London residence, where presumably the elusive Captain Dolokhov would be in attendance.  
Elizabeth felt her stomach flutter at the thought of seeing him again; but his comments about the ladies he'd met in Brighton rung in her ears, and she cried off from attending - blaming a headache. She had no desire to see that man again - how dare he describe her as vapid and unintelligent.....he didn't even know her at all!  
_______________________  
The evening at Lord Croft's promised to be entertaining and Dolokhov was in the mood for amusement. He was introduced to several new families, mainly those with military links, and several young ladies fluttered themselves towards him - attractive on a purely visual level, but not with the combination of wit or sparkle to truly tempt him.  
He was charming of course; he enjoyed being the centre of attention and a suave, Russian soldier was for the time being a highly effective invitation which was working very definitely in his favour.  
He spotted Miss Fitzallen arriving and noticed himself pull his shoulders back and draw himself up to an inch above his usual height whilst running his thumb and forefinger across his moustache to smooth and neaten in, hoping he realised to see a dark haired lady following her. But the lady behind her was short and had a head full of bouncing blonde curls......Miss Middleton had not come.  
He amused himself a little; regaling tales of the Russian front - his tale of the bear, the policeman and the Volga was always a hit, which nobody seemed to tire of him repeating; but after a while he grew bored and strolled off to find a moment of peace, to consider the range of emotions he was struggling with.  
He sat and smoked in what appeared to be a study or library and was making his way back to the main amusement when he was stalled by a woman.   
He recognised her as the wife of General Corden whom he had been introduced to earlier. She was considerably younger than her husband and was clearly flirting with him.  
"So, this is where you've been hiding away from me!" she purred, trailing her fingertips across his shoulderline and pausing with her palm resting flat against his shirt, flexing it slightly against the firmness of his chest beneath.  
Dolokhov nodded imperceptibly, "I had no idea of you searching for me, madam," he drawled, raising the hand at his chest to his lips, noticing how she clasped her lower lip between her teeth at his touch.  
"I was interested in your uniform.....so much more becoming than the English army," she continued, moving her hands across his body, touching the details at his shoulders, cuffs and collar before moving her hand down towards his belt, her eyes never leaving his.  
Dolokhov could feel arousal inside his breeches; if her hand travelled a fraction lower she'd feel it too.  
Miss Middleton wasn't the only woman in the world......maybe this one would do - and she was married, so it was almost respectable. He grasped the wrist of Helena Corden and pulled her back into the room he'd just vacated. She gasped, feigning outrage, but her feet followed lightly and once the door was closed behind them she returned his kisses with the passion of a young woman who was rarely satisfied by her husband!  
Dolokhov ran his tongue down the soft skin of her neck, breathing heavily as her hands clawed at his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. He lifted the squirming woman easily and almost dropped her onto a low chair, falling to his knees and disappearing beneath her skirts with a devilish gleam in his eyes.  
Helena Corden was subjected to one of the most satisfying tongue lashings of her life! Never before had a man satisfied her so thoroughly, but the sensation of his moustached mouth and delving tongue applied to her soft, pink folds had her almost crying out in ecstasy.  
Dolokhov enjoyed himself too - he knew he was skilled and liked nothing more than making a woman come undone through his mouth at her quim. The application of his rough fingers against the small bead nestled in her thatch finished her completely, leaving her sprawled, panting and grinning inanely against the velvet upholstery.  
Dolokhov wiped his mouth roughly on her petticoat before picking up his discarded jacket and striding out of the room and straight towards the stables.   
His cock was solid in his breeches, but he didn't want to fuck the General's wife.....not tonight anyway! So he selected one of the empty stables and freed his erection, spitting roughly on his palm to ease his strokes along it's length. He allowed his head to drop back and his eyes to close; but the image of Elizabeth Middleton's comely figure in her eau de nil dress popped into his head and he panted, stifling a slight sob as he worked up and down his straining length.   
He tightened his grip around the tip; breathing deeply to prevent himself spending; using his thumb to spread the creamy juice leaking from the slit around his shining rod. He thought back to the sight of Elizabeth's breasts pressed against the neckline of her dress and her twinkling eyes looking up at him through her dark, lowered lashes and he gave in to his urges.  
With several powerful strokes and animalistic growls he brought himself to completion letting the stream of hot, milky cum splatter across the stable walls.  
____________________  
The following morning Elizabeth set out early in order to make as much progress as possible on the lengthy journey to Northumberland....and home.  
She'd leave all thoughts of Captain Dolokhov behind her........although the coach ride would inevitably give her plenty of opportunities to relive their encounter.  
But she shook her head....Captain Dolokhov's iced lips on her wrist would not occupy her thoughts.....not at all!

___________________  
General Corden's wife laid in bed late and seemed particularly good natured according to her lady's maid. She was heard to hum   
___________________  
Dolokhov enjoyed the hospitality of Lord Croft and ate heartily at breakfast whilst his new friend opened his correspondence, laying out several invitations on the table beside them.  
"Here's a laugh!......how do you fancy seeing a bit more of England old chap?" Alistair asked his Russian comrade. The raised brow he received in return was eloquence itself.  
"Invitations from plenty of chums who've heard about you.....plus a request from Brigadier Middleton.....house is in the middle of bloody nowhere, but well, he is a Brigadier and all that.....and his parties are always a jolly good lark!"  
In truth Dolokhov had ceased listening after he heard the name Middleton..........but suddenly his morning seemed brighter, his mood lighter.....and he licked his lips, "I would much like to meet the Brigadier," he stated in stilted, but sexily accented English.  
"Top show!" grinned Lord Croft.  
__________________  
Elizabeth in her carriage stared out at the passing scenery; the hustle if London far behind her. The luxury of her own carriage meant she could relax, and the horses were making decent time on the good roads.  
She would overnight at Kettering this evening, then journey onto Mansfield. The inns she would use were familiar to her - she'd made the 5 day journey on several occasions.   
Captain Dolokhov's dark, soulful eyes and the tightness of his cream breeches would not occupy her thoughts......not at all!


	6. Travelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth continues her journey up to Northumberland and her family home.  
> Dolokhov's exploits with the General's wife become known as she shares her tales with some of Elizabeth's friends!

Elizabeth was on the way from Mansfield to Ripon. It was the part of the journey she enjoyed, watching the beautiful and almost wild scenery go by and feeling the air change to a somehow crisper and lighter gas, which seemed to fill her lungs more readily and with less effort. In short, she was relaxed, and she wasn't thinking about a certain dark, Russian soldier staring at her with impenetrable green eyes......no, not at all!  
___________________________  
The Russian soldier in question was busying himself packing and accompanying his new friend Lord Alistair Croft into his tailors in Saville Row. Lord Croft had acknowledged that Dolokhov had not brought sufficient clothing for a prolonged visit, including weekend visits to country estates, so had willed him to make his selections and charge them to his own account - he himself was purchasing new shirts and a fine pair of boots.   
Dolokhov was not extravagant and selected some deeper, buff coloured trousers and a green coat together with a selection of shirts and new cravats. He had a black jacket and waistcoat already as well as a pair of deep, grey trousers, and alongside his uniform this would be serviceable enough; as long as one was smartly presented, nobody expected a visitor to have unlimited clothing!  
Lord Croft explained the next few weeks to him - basically they and a whole pack of other London socialites made their way up the country, staying over at various country estates and houses for weekends where there would be parties and sports to amuse them all.  
Dolokhov nodded his acceptance of this plan, but the time it would take to travel as far as Middleton Hall would merely be an annoying interlude as far as he was concerned......she'd have no choice but to see him again when he visited her house!  
Lord Croft picked up a rather beautiful peacock blue coloured waistcoat and tried it next to his colouring - it did nothing for him, but when he held it up at his friend's torso he grinned "Take this too, on me, it's far too delicious to leave it behind!"  
_____________________________  
Emily, her brother George, Charles Courtney, Clara Glenfellen and Freddie Ayeclyffe were taking tea in one of the many salons in town and discussing their own arrangements for the annual departure from town Northwards.   
They would travel together and visit the estates of Clara's family as well as Freddie's along with a visit to the Corden's manor and Lord Croft's huge estate in Yorkshire. Not all of the visits would be 'weekenders', due to the nature of the journey as far as Middleton Hall they would also make some of the visits during the week.  
Emily was hoping that her brother would use the time to pluck up the courage to ask for Clara's hand.....but he was a pathetic boy and still felt that the lady had no interest in him, despite the fact that she gave him fluttered lashes and sweet smiles at every opportunity!  
They were almost ready to depart when Helena Corden wafted into the salon and gravitated towards their table. The gentlemen took their leave to arrange carriages and cloaks.  
"Darlings, I do hope that the General and I will have the pleasure of seeing you all soon at the manor......I do so love it to be filled with youth and fun!" she giggled.  
Emily spoke for the group, "Of course we'll attend. Who else will be in the party?"  
At this point, Helena glanced around as if trying to ensure secrecy; but her actions alone caused several at other tables to notice her more.  
"My dears, I don't mind telling you that as long as that devilishly divine Russian is in attendance I shall be very satisfied," and she gave a roll of her eyes which left nothing to the imaginations of the ladies present.  
"Indeed, Captain Dolokhov is invited?" Clara confirmed, and Helena nodded vehemently, "Yes, he and Lord Croft and some others of course, friends of the General."  
Emily and Clara made their goodbyes and whispered as they made their way towards the men.  
"Heavens, she's taken Dolokhov as a lover!" Clara hissed.  
Emily nodded in wide eyed agreement, "Pretty clear about what she meant....satisfied indeed! Goodness, he certainly is a rogue!"  
_________________________  
Elizabeth reached Ripon. She settled herself in her lodgings then took a brisk walk to ease her joints after so much time inside a carriage. She walked past the army barracks in the town, the sight of soldiers parrying with swords in the courtyard caught her eye and she imagined Captain Dolokhov as one of them. She hadn't before noticed what a wide stance was involved, and how flexed and taut the thighs were of those taking part. She pondered on this as she walked past, somewhat more slowly in pace, and she didn't think of a dashing Russian swordsman's thighs encased in cream fabric .....not at all!


	7. General Corden's Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth is on the final part of her journey home whilst Captain Dolokhov and her London friends make their way up north, stopping off at Helena Cordon's manor......with some more scandalous behaviour on display.

Elizabeth was leaving Ripon after a glorious sleep and an even more glorious breakfast at the familiar inn. She was also happy in the knowledge that her next evening in Shotley Bridge would be her last before she was home and in her own bed chamber, surrounded by her own, familiar belongings, scents and views.  
A letter from Emily had reached her, sent to the inn, outlining the news that her brother still hadn't proposed to Clara, and that the talk of London was still the dashing Captain Dolokhov, who was apparently now an almost inseperable companion of Lord Croft, both of whom would be making the trek to his Yorkshire estate, which Emily had also been invited to attend.  
___________________________________________  
General Corden's manor was based in Cheltenham, so a decent day's carriage drive, or horse ride out of town. Emily and her party left London in a carriage whilst Lord Croft and Dolokhov opted for their own horses, allowing then the luxury of travelling faster, but also resting more frequently and for as long as they desired. Lord Croft admired his new friend's seat as well as his flamboyant nature - he seemed fearless, which was thrilling to be around; plus he exuded masculinity - it seemed to ooze out of his every movement or facial expression, and Alistair was rather disturbed to find himself aroused by the proximity of the Russian.   
He'd been to public school and had endured a couple of 'fag' encounters with older boys, and in his turn he had continued the tradition by assigning one of the younger chaps as his own; but he'd become more than interested in females as he matured, and hadn't given male relationships another thought until Dolokhov.  
"Race you!" shouted the Russian as he flew past on his black mare, slapping the rump of Croft's grey, making it rear slightly and gallop in chase.  
The pair covered several fields before pulling up to stop in the shade of some trees, out of sight of a soul.  
Dolokhov dismounted and loosely reigned his horse so that she could chew the damp grass and recover from the gallop.  
He stretched and wandered over to a low hedge; he loosened the button on his breeches and freed himself to piss into the undergrowth.  
Lord Croft couldn't help but glance across, noting the size and girth of the Russian's cock; even when limp and pissing it was an impressive size.  
Dolokhov had noticed the attention of his the English Lord, but he was unselfconscious about his body, having served in the army for so long - soldiers never seemed to have an issue being naked around each other, and the admiring glances of a man was as normal to the Russian as those from women!  
_________________________________________  
They reached the manor late afternoon, shortly after Emily Fitzallen and her party had arrived. There were also several other groups, including Charles Courtney, Officer Pargetter and naturally a great number of officers and higher ranks from the army who were known to the General. Many of the people would not be residing at the property, but Emily and her friends were all assigned rooms, as was Lord Croft; and Captain Dolokhov who noted that the room he had been assigned was on both a different floor, and a different side of the house to those of the others. His room; he would discover later, was located across the corridor from Helena Corden's own rooms......it was as if it had been designed that way!  
They all dressed for dinner and enjoyed an evening of glorious food, endless wines and raucous laughter. Helena Corden's eyes seldom left Captain Dolokhov, and her trailing fingers caressed him somewhat inappropriately throughout the evening - although he did look incredibly dashing in his uniform, with renewed colour in his cheeks following the fresh air.  
The chatter amongst the ladies was frequently about him, and much fluttering of fans occurred whenever he deigned to join them, or be introduced to them.  
Emily was officially introduced to him after he'd been in discussion with her brother and Freddie Ayeclyffe. When they came across to where she was talking to the hostess Emily couldn't help but be somewhat transfixed by the sure and certain manner in which he took her hand and touched it to his lips; his green eyes looking directly into hers and one brow raised; possibly in appreciation of her looks.  
Helena Corden however cut short any possible interaction by whisking him immediately away, although Emily did notice a backwards glance from him and almost appealing eyes cast in her direction as he was physically manouevred through a doorway by the hostess......  
......they reappeared a short while later, Mrs Corden had a slight flush to her cheeks and the Captain immediately downed a glass of porter, followed by a second.  
None of this was noted by General Corden.....but none of it was missed by Emily Fitzallen, who committed it all to memory in order to relay to Elizabeth.  
He was indeed a scoundrel!  
______________________  
Elizabeth arrived in Shotley Bridge and the home of her father's friends, Richard and Diana Featherstone. It was pleasant to lodge in comfortable surroundings and be welcomed as part of a 'family' rather than a paying customer. They spent a very merry evening, and were joined by their son, Philip; whom Elizabeth had known since childhood. Philip was a nice fellow; incredibly driven and interested in all things medical. Through their discussions over the years Elizabeth herself had developed a keen interest in the subject - although as a female she could not partake in the studies and practical investigations or surgery which Philip was now involved with. However, he enjoyed Elizabeth's company greatly, and the two shared many fascinating, if somewhat gruesome, discussions which gave Elizabeth quite an adept awareness of new trends in medicine.  
On this occasion Philip confirmed that he would be returning to London to further his studies, and sadly he would be unable to accompany her to Northumberland as was usual. However, his parents would join her, and they would make a merry party on the final part of the journey.  
She went to bed wondering how Emily was faring at the Corden's - no doubt Charles Courtney would take the opportunity to propose to her again....and no doubt Emily would refuse. She smiled to the bed posts, and for a fleeting moment saw an image of Captain Dolokhov stood between them, his arms outstretched holding a post in either hand and glaring at her with those lascivious, dark, hooded eyes.  
She shifted slightly in bed, aware of a warm sensation between her legs at the thought of him....and yet he had made it plain that he found her of no interest! She shook her head to physically remove the image of him from her mind.  
She would not dream of him crawling up the bed and lying beside her........not at all!  
___________________________  
Back in Cheltenham everyone was retiring. Dolokhov made his way to his chamber, striding confidently despite a belly full of wine. He noticed that a candle was burning and a fire lit as he entered....he also noted that a second door was open on the far side which had not been earlier. He investigated and discovered it led into a short corridor, the end of which clearly led into another bed chamber. He loosened his cravat and cleared his throat as he paused in the corridor.   
"Oh Cap-tain," trilled the voice of Helena Corden, "Won't you join me?" and he entered the second bedroom to discover his hostess lying upon her own bed, wearing only a smile.  
Dolokhov noted that she had a decent, firm body; he'd fucked worse, and he'd already satisfied her on two previous occasions.....at least on this occasion he'd have comfort to his knees!  
The image of Elizabeth Middleton in her eau de nil dress flicked across his mind for a moment; she would not be so overt in her actions....she would be pure and chaste, he considered this as he removed his clothing and crossed to the bed. Elizabeth Middleton would require much more pursuing....but the prize would potentially be much more worth the wait.   
But she wasn't here...and he was in need of release, so he fucked the General's wife. He displayed an almost animalistic appetite for her, using his mouth, teeth and tongue to cover her body in bruising assaults, and he filled her cunny with his hardness without consideration for her enjoyment - although if he had been paying attention he'd have witnessed her sobbing with desire and rapture throughout his onslaught.  
He left via the corridor in the early hours of the morning so as to wake in his own bed.......and he did the same the following night!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The outstretched arm pose at the end of the bedposts is based on that image of him used a lot in publicity for War and Peace - he's standing between a door with a hand resting on each side of the frame! Sigh!


	8. Home again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth reaches home, the others reach Lord Croft's estate in Yorkshire.  
> Elizabeth is looking forward to their house guests until her father shows her who is invited!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea whether it would be possible to travel from Cheltenham to Yorkshire on horseback in a couple of days....but I'm trying to move the story on.......bear with me!

Dolokhov was eager to leave Cheltenham - he'd had his fill of Mrs Corden; quite literally, and her fawning attentions were beginning to grate on him......plus he was keen to travel further north with the ultimate prize of Miss Middleton waiting for him.  
He and Lord Croft therefore left after a hasty breakfast and before the ladies of the house had risen. The look of incredulity on Helena Corden's face when she learned of their departure was noted by Emily - she actually stifled a snigger with a toasted muffin rather well!  
Lord Croft and his companion's clothing trunks would be sent up via his own carriage, which he had offered to the Corden's for their use up to Yorkshire by way of thanks for their hospitality, but the two men had left on horseback with basic necessities in their saddlebags.  
They rode at a steady pace so as to cover ground without tiring their mounts, and they rested for long periods when inns and small towns crossed their path.  
Freddie Ayeclyffe's family home was a 'halfway' stopover for them all, and by evening the various carriages and groups had arrived, been shown to their rooms and were able to join in a pleasantly 'informal' buffet style evening meal.  
This allowed everyone more opportunity to mingle freely; and despite her continual stalking of him, Dolokhov managed to avoid the sole company of Mrs Corden for most of the evening.  
He discovered Emily with a young lady called Davina Parkes, seated near to the piano; they were evidently trying to select a suitable piece of music to play.  
"If I may?" his deep, highly accented English began, and he thumbed through the various sheets, selecting one with a nod of recognition. He offered the music to the ladies, Emily arranged it open and Miss Parkes glanced across it, arranging her fingers above the keys. She began the introduction with adept poise and quality in her fingering of the keys. Dolokhov nodded in recognition of her skill. As the song progressed Emily added the simple vocal accompaniment and the two ladies performed the song beautifully.  
The room applauded with appreciation as they ended, and Dolokhov grasped each of their hands in turn, speaking in Russian with a softness and passion which Emily had not seen when he had spoken in either French of his clipped and limited English. She had no way of knowing what he was conveying, but the way his eyes moving, the softness to his lips and the slight squeeze he gave to her hand made her assume he was pleased, possibly even moved, by their rendition.  
Emily watched as he moved across to join some of the gentlemen in their discussion about horses, he certainly did seem to be a complex character......a scoundrel of course.....but maybe he was an artistic, soulful scoundrel?! And he filled out his breeches incredibly well!  
_____________________________________   
Elizabeth was pleased to reach home - the familiar driveway instantly caused her aches to disappear and any stressful thoughts to become insignificant. Richard and Diana Featherstone were good companions and eager to visit with her parents and upon arrival there was much laughter, embracing and chatter.  
Having quickly re-established herself in her rooms she went in search of her father to spend some time alone with him as she always did following a prolonged separation from him and their home.  
She found him in his study - which was attached to the large library and he immediately put down his papers and gave her his full attention. He was incredibly proud of his daughter - her poise, beauty and charm was widely commented upon, as was her character and intellect. He enjoyed her company and wasn't eager for her to be married off - he'd openly advised her against accepting several proposals, and he'd flatly refused 2 young men who had asked him for permission - one of which he hadn't even told her about!  
He was pleased to have her back home, wanted to know the news from London and was keen for her opinions regarding their guests, some of which he had been eager to invite and he knew by design that she'd had some interaction with them in London.  
"How are the repairs to those 4 cottages coming along?" she asked as she sat beside the table, an apple in her hand.  
"Oh well enough, and as you suggested, the owners were more than happy to carry out the actual labour once I'd provided the materials.....fine result all round my dear," he smiled at her. "Now, what is the news from London? Any new suitors?" he continued with a playful grin.  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes "Dear Freddie has tried again.....of course, but no......nobody worth noting," she replied, although her gaze momentarily shifted, which her father caught, but he knew his daughter well enough to know not to press her further.  
"Well then," he said briskly, "I've some interesting news about our house guests this year."  
Elizabeth brought herself back to focus on her father rather than where she had drifted off to - surrounded by greenery watching a dark eyed Russian lick raspberry ice from a silver spoon.  
Her father shuffled some papers around and brought out a seating plan for their dining hall, "Yes, as I was saying my dear, I've invited the usual, but with Philip not able to join us we've decided to ask a new face. There's this Russian chap, devilishly heroic chap, damn fine army tactician too by all accounts. Wanted to meet the fellow and he's a pal of Lord Croft who was attending anyway, so I've extended an invitation to him. Just haven't worked out where to seat him!" At this point he looked up from the paper to see his daughter's expression.  
"Anything wrong my dear?" he asked, noting her almost paralysed features and wide eyed expression.  
"Oh father, you've invited Captain Dolokhov.....here......to our home?" she stammered.  
The Brigadier was not completely shocked - he'd heard of the man's reputation with the ladies, and he could understand his daughter's concern that it might be unseemly to promote an acquaintance with him - but they were a family who didn't as a rule put much stock in what other people thought, and her reaction seemed a little alarming.  
"Elizabeth, you mustn't believe everything one hears, and the fact of the matter is he is a damn fine soldier....and well, I'm a Brigadier....it's the done thing to harbour positive relationships with our allies.....anyway, the chap's accepted and will be on his way," he went back to considering the seating plan, "I'm guessing you don't want the fellow seated near to you then?" he added, picking up his pencil.  
Elizabeth considered the news further - she could clearly see that her father would be interested in meeting him; and indeed that Dolokhov himself would want to meet her father....but to have him in their own home for several days, when he'd made it perfectly clear that he found her vapid, uninteresting and plain!  
She glanced over at the seating plan and requested her father hand it over, she considered the overall layout, the obvious place was to seat the Captain directly across from her or next to her - their table was wide, across from her would be easier for her to ignore him. she made a few adjustments and passed the paper back with a rueful smile. Her father cast his eyes across it and smiled, "I'm glad you are home Bethie my girl!"  
Elizabeth rose and wandered out, crunching down hard on the apple which had somehow become tasteless.  
Captain Dolokhov would be in her home, sleeping in one of their beds, and looking desireably delicious in all manner of rooms. She could only avoid him so much.  
Fortunately the post arrived, and a letter from Emily was amongst it, which would serve as a diversion to her thoughts of the roguish Captain.....she would not think of him following her up the oak staircase with his fingertips grazing hers at the turn.....not at all!  
_____________________________________  
At the Ayeclyffe home everyone retired to their rooms quite late. Captain Dolokhov was actually pleased to reach his bed - his body was becoming a little weary of riding, especially in an English saddle, which differed to what he was used to in the Russian army. He slept naked beneath the covers, allowing his thoughts to drift back to Elizabeth Middleton. Her sparkling eyes and mischievous smile flashed across his brain, as did the swell of her breasts against the pale green silk of that dress. When he'd answered to his thoughts about the women he'd met he had been quite specific in stating that he'd been uninterested in any of those he'd been formally introduced to.....but he had not been officially introduced to Miss Middleton.....yet......  
His pillow felt soft and yielding and he slept soundly, images of Miss Middleton invading his slumbers in the most glorious manner.  
____________________________________  
Emily's letter informed Elizabeth about Dolokhov and Helena Corden. So, he truly was a cad and a womaniser......if she bore that in mind maybe she would be able to cope better with his proximity in a few days time.......and she wouldn't think about him hovering horizontally above Helena Corden in bed.....not at all!  
She went into the library feeling frustrated on many levels....she scanned the shelves and took down a volume of Catullus, and another of Sappho, and she retired to her room for the rest of the morning.  
And she would not imagine Fedya Dolokhov in the masculine role and she as some of the female ones in those poems.....not at all.......well maybe.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always end up doing this - I split up the main pair and get rather desperate for them to get back together again....but they will soon be reunited for some more angsty yearning stuff.


	9. Solitude....please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More travelling in order for Dolokhov and Elizabeth to be reunited.

Elizabeth woke up knowing that in 2 days hence their home would be overflowing with visitors, including the dashing Captain Dolokhov. She intended to savour the peace and tranquillity whilst she could.  
Following breakfast she went to the stables and asked for her horse, Mabel, to be saddled. She collected the copy of Sappho and took 2 apples and a hunk of pie, placing all into a small, fabric bag. She would do a tour of the estate and aimed to settle near to the stream to read and enjoy solitude.  
________________________________________  
Dolokhov was desperate for some solitude himself, but instead was en route to Yorkshire, once more on horseback accompanied by Lord Croft, and also Freddie Ayeclyffe who had been inspired to abandon the carriage (and chattering females) in order to cross the ground more quickly and further to acquaintance he had begun with the Russian.  
They left before the other carriages and again spent hours alternating between riding at a steady pace and resting in inns.  
Arriving at Lord Croft's Yorkshire estate was a welcome sight, although it's huge size meant that travelling along the driveway to reach the main house took some considerable time. However, the 3 gentlemen arrived before the others and set about settling themselves in their rooms.   
Dolokhov went in search of amusement, but instead found himself awed a little by the opulent surroundings - it reminded him very much of the homes he had been invited intimate access to in Russia. He felt a pang of homesickness and found a desk with writing equipment where he penned a short letter to his dear sister and mother. He addressed and sealed it and took it with him as he continued his exploration of the house. Freddie Ayeclyffe descended the stairs and joined him as he crossed the hallway with his letter in hand.  
"Are you after posting that old chap?" Freddie asked, indicating the letter and crossing to a bell pull.  
A servant arrived promptly and took the letter which Freddie passed across. He noted the address and said something in English which Dolokhov could not fathom.  
Freddie looked at him and spoke loudly and slowly, "Russia....long way.....take many days," indicating the letter again held by the footman.  
Dolokhov understood and nodded, he was being informed that the letter would take quite a while to arrive, he had already assumed as much - it had taken several days to travel this far north in England let alone get a letter across the continent!  
Satisfied, the pair wandered outside and took a turn around the park in amicable silence due to the lack of a shared language.  
Upon their return a good many more guests had begun to arrive, so they nodded by way of acknowledging enjoyment of each other's company and ventured inside. Dolokhov changed his clothes and wore non-regimental clothing for once. He had to acknowledge that his new clothes looked very well on him. He felt revived and flirtatious again.....Helena Corden was there with her husband, but he was in the mood for something different - he was in the mood for Elizabeth Middleton; but she wasn't there!  
_______________________________________  
When Elizabeth returned home there was a flurry of excitement as the servants busied themselves beating rugs, shaking and airing bedding and setting fires in all of the rooms. The weekend party was always a lot of hard work, Elizabeth had voiced her worries that it was too much for the staff on one occasion and had received a practical and honest response - that it gave them all an opportunity to 'keep on top' of the general cleaning, without the annual event a good many of the rooms and hearths would lay bare all year and therefore require more upkeep when required! Cook looked forward to the opportunity to 'show off' and keep up with the current trends; the horses invariably all got a decent ride out and the guests they invited were always fine characters who treated the home and staff with respect.  
She wondered whether the same could be said for Mr Dolokhov?!  
______________________________________  
2 days passed.  
The Yorkshire crowd began to drift northwards - it had been an uneventful sojourn all in all.  
Dolokhov still preferred to ride rather than travel in a carriage despite the fact that the saddle he was using was starting to rub uncomfortably against his inner thigh. But having had 3 days respite in Yorkshire he felt happier about the final stretch towards Miss Middleton.....she felt like a kind of prize at the end of his trials.  
He would see her later that very day.  
___________________________________  
Elizabeth had an odd spring in her step as she fixed her hair and selected a fetching pink gown, before changing her mind and opting for a yellow muslin instead. She shook her head at her own ridiculousness.....why on earth was she fretting over a frock?!  
She was eager to see Emily again and catch up on the gossip, what would have happened en route?   
She put Captain Dolokhov out of her mind.....she would not visit his bed chamber and stroke the linens; not again.....and she would not wander around the exterior of the house to gauge the best possible view of his window.....not at all!


	10. The power of the evening sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dolokhov arrives at Middleton Hall at last.

Middleton Hall was looking at it's finest. Servants were still making finishing touches here and there, but everything was ready for the onslaught of guests by mid morning, even though arrivals were only due late afternoon.  
Elizabeth found it difficult to concentrate or focus on anything for long; she felt twitchy and anxious. She tried to read, but her volume of Delphine held her attention for only pages at a time before she realised she was re reading the same section endlessly.  
"This is ridiculous!" she mumbled outloud as she found herself yet again considering her appearance in the mirror above the hearth. She shook the bouncing curls in her hair and grasped her pelisse.....walking, that would pass the time.  
__________________________  
Dolokhov found himself more and more transfixed by the beauty of the countryside they rode through. It's wildness reminded him of the Russian countryside.  
He would have enjoyed it even more if he hadn't been developing a rather significant saddle sore. He'd thought that the rest in Yorkshire would have helped, but the differing shape of the English saddle meant that the skin of his inner thigh was being chaffed raw. However, he was a soldier who had endured worse....  
.....anyway, his thoughts were somewhat preoccupied. The beautiful Miss Middleton was but a few hours away.  
_________________________  
The Cordens, Lord Croft, Emily, George and Clara arrived first. Elizabeth was making her way back to the house after her extended walk and met the carriage as it drew up. Her parents came to greet the guests at the top of the small staircase leading to the main door and there was a great deal of chattering and renewing of acquaintances.  
Rooms were allocated and Elizabeth herself escorted Emily to hers. Once safely inside Emily clasped her friend's hands and encouraged her to sit on the bed to chat.  
She twittered on about gowns, who had made offers to whom so far, and then proceeded to describe in alarming detail the apparent activities between Helena Corden and Captain Dolokhov.  
"In the library?" Elizabeth queried.  
Emily nodded; wide eyed.  
"And she told you that he actually visited her in her rooms.....under her own roof......with her husband sleeping only a few doors down?" she continued.  
Emily continued to nod, "She was completely shameless in her descriptions.......and some of the things she claimed he did, well.......I'm not sure they are possible!"  
Elizabeth arched her eyebrows. "Well, clearly he has found someone who he considers not quite so vapid and uninteresting," she stood and whisked her hands briskly across the front of her dress. Emily knew her friend well, she could tell something was bothering her.  
"What do you care? You have plenty of beau making you offers......and it isn't as though he's decent!" she offered.  
Elizabeth shuffled nervously, "I just don't like the man's impertinence.....I mean, how dare he make such comments about us! I thought all acquaintance with him had ceased, and then I arrive home to discover that my dear, but eccentric father has invited him under our roof!"  
Emily smiled at her friend's starchiness; it was most unlike her, "The invitation was quite proper given your father's position as a brigadier, and it is quite a coup to have the Russian stay - he's the talk of society despite his erm....dubious reputation!"  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she made to leave, "I'll have hot water sent up and some strawberries from the hot house....I've missed you Em."

She almost bumped into General and Helena Corden as she skipped down the staircase towards the kitchen.  
"My dear, so good of you to invite everyone to stay, " she exaggerated the word 'everyone' to leave Elizabeth in no doubt that what she actually meant was Captain Dolokhov.  
Elizabeth pasted a false, but practised grin on her face, "Yes, my father is eager to discuss tactics about war with our Russian friend.....I'm sure they will spend hours together..... in the library."  
Helena cleared her throat and pursed her lips to cover the slight flush to her cheeks. "Come dearest, " she grasped her husband's arm, " The brigadier's wife was good enough set up tea for us all."  
Elizabeth bobbed a polite curtsey and clamped her lips together to stifle her giggles as she continued towards the servant's hall.

She was making her way back to find her father or mother when there was the sound of hooves and panting horses on the gravel outside. Deep, masculine voices could be heard together with the slapping of horse flanks.   
Elizabeth couldn't help herself, she made a small, whimpering noise in the back of her throat. "Ridiculous!!" she chastised herself as she tried to walk calmly to greet the guests.   
Her father and mother had beaten her outside and had descended the few steps to the driveway in order to be introduced to Captain Dolokhov by Freddie. Dolokhov stood tall and clicked his heels before shaking hands with the brigadier and bowing his head slightly in a sign of respect for his higher rank. She heard his deep baritone as he greeted her mother and as he released her hand he momentarily froze as he saw her standing in the entrance way, the early evening sun illuminating her skin and to Elizabeth's complete ignorance, making her muslin gown almost transparent.  
Fedya was breathless from the exertion of the final gallop, and from supressing the pain in his thigh when he saluted the brigadier, but the sight of Miss Middleton in her almost shimmering golden gown, her shapely legs clearly visible through the flimsy fabric would have knocked the wind from his lungs regardless.  
Brigadier Middleton followed the Russian's gaze, "Ahhh, allow me to introduce you to my daughter. Elizabeth, my dear, this is Captain Fyodor Dolokhov, one of the most heroic and infamous soldiers in the Russian army," he then continued in French, "Captain Dolokhov may I introduce my daughter, Elizabeth."  
There was a delicious warmth and sensuality behind his hooded eyes that made it difficult for Elizabeth to avoid them as he advanced towards her, remaining on the lower steps, so that his head was almost parallel with her own.   
She realised that she had made no movement of greeting, and he had to capture and raise her hand to his lips from where it rested against her side, his fingers briefly grazed her thigh as he did so.  
"Enchante Mademoiselle," he offered, and kept hold of her elegant fingers for a fraction of a moment longer than was necessary.  
Elizabeth tried to settle her breathing and allowed her eyes to leave his, focussing instead of the shape of his lips hovering above her finger tips.  
"I trust your journey has been pleasant, we are quite a way north of London" she managed to stammer, her eyes twinkling, "I trust you have been well looked after en route.....there are a good many in London society who like to ensure that visitors are.....made to feel welcome." She noticed a flicker of embarrassment cross his face as she gave him a steely and knowing glare, before she advanced open armed towards Freddie Ayeclyffe, and embraced him with probably more amicability than was usual - poor Freddie of course almost dissolved into a puddle....and raised his hopes that absence had made Miss Middleton's attraction grow stronger.....which of course it had......but not for him.  
"Well, well, what's all this standing around? Let's get inside and get you gentlemen settled," her father announced in his usual rowdy and unaffected manner. He clasped Dolokhov around the shoulder and slapped his back so heartily that the man almost stumbled; but he smiled......he liked the brigadier.  
Elizabeth followed them inside. She would not picture the way his eyes had flecks of gold in them, nor the way they crinkled when he smiled....not at all. And she would definitely stop brushing her fingers across the place he had kissed her on her hand......she would......but not just now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am picturing Elizabeth's father like Jim Broadbent in Moulin Rouge - outlandish and loud, gruff, but with a soft, sensitive heart.


	11. Candlelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole party dines at Middleton Hall, Dolokhov is clearly side tracked by Elizabeth's beauty. Elizabeth tries to banish thoughts of him but fails!

The servants busied themselves with coats and saddlebags, taking them to join the rest of the gentlemen's clothing which had arrived in Lord Croft's carriage. Hot water was called for and Elizabeth watched as Freddie and Dolokhov were escorted to their rooms. She noticed both men cast glances down towards her as they rounded the wooden staircase; Freddie's eyes were soft and rather pathetic looking, Fedya's however were paralysingly penetrating. Her own gaze travelled across his broad shoulderline, noting the slightness of his waist and the shapeliness of his buttocks and thighs encased in his breeches. She noticed a slight unevenness to his gait and fancied it was due to stiffness from his ride..  
.....she was partially correct!

In his well appointed room he gratefully acknowledged the work of the valet who had already stored his belongings carefully and efficiently and bid him away in order to partake of the hot water and refresh himself after the journey. He also wanted to take a look at the painful sore on his thigh which had been growing progressively more evident. He undressed behind the ornate screen and gasped at the sight of his thigh - a large, egg sized lump was visible under the skin. It felt hot and somewhat solid to his touch and it made him gasp and bare his teeth. He swore in Russian, but cleaned it thoroughly before turning his attention to the rest of his toilette. He washed, enjoying the sensation of the warm water, and trimmed his moustache and beard a little before applying a small amount of his preferred cologne - it was spicy and musky and he used it sparingly.  
He lay on top of his bed, allowing his hair and body to dry and let his thoughts drift back to Miss Middleton. The view of her from partway up the staircase was imprinted on his mind; her elegant neck stretched upwards allowing an unrestricted view of her décolletage; her breasts resting in creamy mounds against the gathered, yellow fabric of her gown. Had he detected a slight inclination of her eyes towards him? Had she been admiring his body? He'd certainly been admiring hers! He reached down to his groin and his fingers grazed against the large shape he found there.....he winced - damn it, blasted saddle sore!

He must have drifted to sleep for it was beginning to grow dark when he awoke. He felt considerably more alert, but the lump on his thigh showed no sign of going down; he'd just have to be careful about how he sat....and he raised eyes heavenwards in a plea for no dancing this evening! He dressed himself in his grey trousers, which had more fabric to them and didn't cling to his legs like his uniform breeches. He added a fresh linen shirt and cravat. He liked the way the fabric wound around his neck and gave him a more 'upright' posture. He added the peacock blue waistcoat Lord Croft had gifted him and finally his short, leather dress boots and black, woollen jacket. He ran his hand through his mane of dark hair - falling asleep with it damp had resulted in natural curls and waves forming in it, which he now couldn't tame, but he was otherwise pleased with his reflection. He winced again as he momentarily forgot the sore on his thigh and twisted to view his rear image. But his stomach growled, food to fill his belly and a decent sleep would help relieve the pain....as would the sight of Miss Middleton.

Making his way along the upper landing he followed the rumble of voices and found the staircase, at the base of which he saw a crowd of familiar faces and several new ones. He began to descend the stairs, noticing, but trying not to acknowledge the open mouthed stare of Helena Corden.   
Elizabeth was standing talking to Emily and George when he came down, she saw a brief flash of deep greeny blue satin in her eyeline and turned her neck slightly to catch sight of him as he stood on the lower landing; just 2 small steps between him and the height of the rest of them.   
She tried to control her breathing - his hair looked gloriously tousled and the flash of colour in his waistcoat made his green eyes seem more vivid and twinkling.  
Damn, she thought......she'd seated him opposite her.....she would have to spend the entire meal avoiding those intense eyes!

Elizabeth's father made his way over to Dolokhov and greeted him warmly again, speaking French as their shared tongue. He guided him towards a group containing Richard and Diana Featherstone, the young officer James Pargetter and General Corden. He greeted them cordially and accepted a goblet of red wine from the offered tray. It was evident that he was trying to remain attentive to the group, but his eyes wandered around the crowd.  
Elizabeth watched him from a relatively concealed position; she noticed his almost embarrassed frown when he caught the eye of the General's wife; the grin of friendship towards Lord Croft and Charles Courtney; the way he scanned across the waiting eyes of various beauties - flashing them a hooded eyed smoulder; and then before she knew it his eyes met hers.  
She noticed a miniscule, but significant change to his expression; the smouldering gaze became softer, his jaw less stiff and small crinkles appeared at the corner of his eyes as he held her gaze. 

He'd finally found her in the throng; she was like cool water on a warm day to his eyes and he had to stop himself from abruptly leaving his company in order to travel the distance across the room to embrace her. Instead however he met her eyes before pulling them from her face to take in her entirety. He gripped the wine goblet in his hand tighter as he felt his desire for her growing below his belt.  
Elizabeth had dressed carefully; paying far more attention to her toilette than was usual, she'd even asked Izzy, her lady's maid to dress her hair, and she knew that she looked alarmingly attractive - she'd even noticed it herself when she'd caught her reflection in her mirror before going down. Her mother had also noticed her daughter's appearance, and from across the room had spotted the change to her posture since the dashing Russian had joined the group.  
Dolokhov regarded Elizabeth's gown of palest peach, it had a wide neckline, stretching across her shoulders, with a small dip at the centre. the bodice was overlaid with a fine, ivory coloured chiffon which created tiny, puffed sleeves and was pleated across her breasts. Her hair was pulled up into a cascade of curls, fastened in a short, bouncing pony tail with a piece of peach ribbon, the ends of which had been tucked in and around twists of her dark, brown waves at her temples. a few tendrils had escaped and made their own design at the nape of her neck and cheek.   
Her only decoration was a small pearl droplet which was fastened on a strand of cream ribbon at her throat.  
She looked edible and Dolokhov stifled a growl as she tossed her head back at something amusing she'd heard in her party, noticing how her creamy breasts rippled in time with her laughter.

All too soon the gong sounded for dinner. Dolokhov offered his arm to Elizabeth's mother, who smiled at the easy charm of the man and they chatted about the general scenery of England as he escorted her to her place at the table before finding his own seat. Elizabeth had taken one of George Fitzallen's arms, Emily the other; much to Freddie Ayeclyffe's chagrin; and Dolokhov noticed her location immediately opposite him across the wide dining table. The candlelight in the room rendered her almost mesmerising and although his stomach required filling he was a little concerned that he'd be able to eat anything as he'd be required to take his eyes from her!  
The ladies were seated, the gents followed and, as etiquette required, conversation began with those seated on his immediate right. This meant that Elizabeth was in discussion with Richard Featherstone, Dolokhov with Mrs Featherstone. Fortunately she spoke some French, and they were able to again discuss the beauty and variety of the English scenery, along with the weather -safe and non threatening topics which passed the time easily and comfortably.   
Course after delicious course of simple, but hearty and well prepared and presented food was delivered to the table. Conversation shifted to the other side and before long, initiated by the Brigadier himself, conversation had started to break into groups, with people talking across the tables and involving others further down in their discussions of increasing volume.   
Elizabeth noticed Dolokhov's expression, she sensed he was taken aback by the lack of formality and felt a frisson of anger - how dare he judge their ways and look down on them.  
Elizabeth swallowed her mouthful of wine and met his gaze with a steely glare, "We may not follow the same stiff rules as in London, or in Russia, Captain; but here in my father's home we follow his rules.....and he doesn't like formality, especially at dinner."  
To her surprise however the Captain met her glare with a soft and enigmatic smile, "You mistake my expression Miss Middleton; I find communal discussion far more entertaining, and those who partake of it far more interesting."  
Elizabeth tried to remain steely; but felt slightly uncomfortable that she'd made an assumption about his character which was wrong. It would have been much easier to dislike the man if he'd been obnoxious.....but he seemed anything but!

Following dessert, when it was customary for the ladies to retire en masse, Fedya noticed no movement from them, instead the Brigadier rose from his seat and began to saunter around the table, smoking a cigar and stopping to talk to others as he did so. After a short time others followed suit so that empty chairs were filled by others and Dolokhov noticed Helena Corden making her way towards a vacant seat quite close to him. Elizabeth watched with amusement at his evident discomfort, however he was 'saved' by Lord Croft who slouched across to him and slapped his friend heartily before whispering in his ear. She noticed Dolokhov's eyes shift towards Emily and he laughed, but without warmth at whatever Alistair had said.   
Elizabeth rose and wandered across to her mother.  
"The Russian is a delight my dear......such an enigmatic character......makes one feel like a young girl again !" she twinkled at her daughter.  
Elizabeth giggled at her mother's boldness, "Mother! His reputation is appalling," and she whispered, "He has seduced Helena Corden several times."  
Her mother merely shook her head, "Well, if he was seducing me I'd definitely want him to have several goes at it!"  
Elizabeth and her mother were laughing openly and gloriously when Dolokhov next looked up. He was instantly fascinated by their relaxed and companiable nature together, and their totally unaffected manners; so honest, so genuine and pure......

The rest of the evening continued in a round of discussions; some drifted off to other rooms to play cards; a piano was being played somewhere and the atmosphere was of relaxation and comfort. Dolokhov felt a lurch of homesickness - it was so like his friends, the Rostov's, gatherings and so different to London society which was full of fakeness and artifice.  
As he lay awake in bed he had a warm feeling flooding through him; and it wasn't just the effects of the wine he'd drunk.   
Elizabeth Middleton's family was wonderful; she was wonderful............but he wasn't the marrying kind..........or was he?  
He turned over, forgetting the lump on his thigh and gritted his teeth as agony flashed through him.

Elizabeth almost didn't want to retire to her bed. The candlelight in the dining hall, combined with the wine, the peacock blue waistcoat and his deliciously unkempt hair had made if difficult for her to focus on anyone except for the Russian Captain. Lying back against her pillow she once more had an image of him standing between the posts at the foot of her bed; this time he was unbuttoning the deep blue, green satin of his waistcoat. She whimpered slightly and squeezed her legs together to ease the ache between them.  
He was sleeping just a few doors away........


	12. Father!....It ISN'T the done thing!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth is required to get up close and personal with Captain Dolokhov's groin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of graphic description of lancing a boil, aka a bit of mild Dolokhov whump going on.

Elizabeth woke with a pleasing feeling in her stomach. Most would be out in the grounds either walking, riding or shooting. Many of the London set enjoyed the freedom of riding over countryside rather than the rigid gallops of the city; and the Middleton stables were well resourced. No doubt Captain Dolokhov would join them.  
This would allow her a brief episode of peace and tranquillity to resume her novel in comfort.  
She dressed in her white muslin day dress and added her string of coral beads around her neck and descended to the breakfast room, suddenly realising how hungry she was having slept very soundly.

many had already risen, eaten and left when she arrived. Freddie was there, waiting for her and greeting her with a simpering smile. He informed her that he would not be riding and instead would like the opportunity of conversing with her later. Elizabeth sighed but agreed to an audience with him later in the morning. He went off, bristling and flustered, much to the amusement of her father who was on his second helping of kidneys.  
For a moment it was just father and daughter, and they chatted lightly about their plans for the day.   
He was about to leave to start his correspondence when they were joined by Captain Dolokhov.  
Both Elizabeth and her father looked somewhat shocked; both had assumed that he would have been out riding or shooting with the rest of the party, but his gait was definitely laboured as he made his way to the sideboard to select eggs and kidneys for his breakfast.  
"Not out with the rest of the chaps Captain?" Elizabeth's father enquired. "Noticed you limping a bit there......old wound playing up is it?" he helped himself to more coffee and sat back down at the table.  
Elizabeth noticed Dolokhov's sideways glance in her direction and busied herself buttering toast.  
He acknowledged the brigadier's question with a short nod, which he assumed would suffice. He had assumed without Brigadier Middleton's lack of ceremony, and had also forgotten that the man had years of soldiering behind him.  
"Can't ride me'self now.....dicky knee," he indicated his left knee which when the weather was colder required him to use a stick.  
Dolokhov liked the frankness of the brigadier and felt a common bond with him. Having taken a draught of porter and noticing that Elizabeth seemed engrossed in reading one of her letters, he ventured an admission towards the older man, "I have developed quite a significant saddle sore on my journey north, sir......saddles in Russia are evidently of a different design." He cocked a raised eyebrow and wry grin towards the brigadier, expecting a nod of understanding in return.  
Instead however the brigadier erupted and indicated Elizabeth, "Oh, is that it.....well.....get Elizabeth to sort it for you, she's a dab hand at lancing.....sorted me out on many occasions in the past....hear that Bethie?"  
Elizabeth's expression showed that she had indeed heard every word that her father had said. She was frozen with her letter midway between her lap and face. She gulped visibly.....as did Captain Dolokhov whose face was staring directly at Elizabeth in terror.  
She cast him an apologetic and understanding look with a slight roll of her eyes towards her father.  
"Father, I'm not convinced it would be completely appropriate for me to tend to Captain Dolokhov's......complaint.....given it's location and him being......a guest, and well.......not a married man," Elizabeth explained calmly. Dolokhov couldn't understand her, but saw her demeanour and felt the tone of her voice - she clearly felt the same dread as he did at the thought of her fumbling around in his groin....at least not in these circumstances.  
The brigadier clapped his hand to his mouth in recognition of his faux pas.  
"Oh, my dear girl....of course, of course.....how foolish of me," and he continued in French, "It wouldn't be seemly for Elizabeth to tend to your wound in the way she does my own....I shall of course remain to act as chaperone then no body can claim anything untoward has taken place!" and the look he cast triumphantly towards Bethie made it impossible for her to be angry with him.  
The look that passed between Dolokhov and Elizabeth however was one of solemn acceptance.  
"Finish your breakfast man and meet us in the library," stated the brigadier as he made his way out of the room, just as Emily and Clara came in.  
"What's going on in the library?" whispered Emily to her friend.  
"Don't ask.......it's possibly even worse a fate than Helena Corden endured!" and she rose, pressing her lips into a thin line, a pink flush to her cheeks. Emily noticed how uncomfortable Captain Dolokhov appeared, his cheeks were pinker than usual too, and he didn't rise when Elizabeth did, which was out of character for him.

Elizabeth made her way to the library and pressed her warm cheek against the cool marble of the central column. Why did she have to have an interest in medicine? And why was Philip Featherstone not at the party - he was far more skilled in these matters than she was....although by her own admission she was very skilled and knowlegeable for a woman. She went to the desk and removed a roll of linen containing several medical implements. She then walked across to the drinks tray and poured a glass of port which she downed in one. The library....of all the rooms, she was getting up close and personal with Captain Dolokhov in the library!

In the breakfast room, Dolokhov was trying to remain calm. Shit! Shit! Shit! His first interaction with Elizabeth Middleton with his clothes off would be in relation to her lancing a boil.....and with her father watching! There were not enough Russian blasphemes to cover his anguish. He was going to have to remove his trousers....and his braies....and she was going to be ridiculously close to a part of his anatomy not known for it's ability to remain in control when she was near.

The brigadier entered the library, humming to himself, carrying some linen bandages and lint dressings, presumably from the linen cupboard, and shortly afterwards their butler, Booth, brought in a ewer of steaming water and a bowl. and crossed to draw the curtains over.  
Elizabeth stifled a whimper in her throat at the thought of what she was about to do......her father was a wonderful man, but somewhat lacking in recognition that his daughter was a woman with a position in society rather than the harum-scarum young girl who liked investigating anything gruesome.  
Dolokhov could put it off no longer and limped his way towards the library, desperately clenching his fists, and purposefully catching the painful lump with his other thigh - if he could make it painful enough then at least he wouldn't get an erection.......please, please don't let me get an erection, he prayed, casting his eyes heavenwards.  
"Ah, there's the chap," her father announced needlessly as he entered the room. Booth closed the door behind him as he left and Elizabeth turned her back fiddling with the scalpel blade from the linen roll and dousing it with scalding water rather than make any kind of eye contact with him.  
he was a patient, just a patient....in need of treatment......in need of her skill....nothing more.  
"Get your trousers off my lad," and indicated the screen which usually served as a way of blocking the sun when it became lower in the sky. "And get yourself settled on that," he pointed to the chaise.  
He sensed the Russian's hesitancy 2come on man.....you're a soldier aren't you.....had much worse conditions in Austerlitz from what I hear....got to be done, and she's highly skilled, don't fear......very efficient hands," and he smiled at Elizabeth's back.   
Dolokhov stifled a groan......no amount of pain could take away the image of her efficient hands working away in his groin, just inches from his most intimate area. Behind the screen he removed his trousers, leaving his braies until he was settled on the sofa. He would close his eyes....that way he'd have no images to excite him and could concentrate on the pain which would ensure no untoward bulge.  
He made his way to the chaise and removed his leg from his braies. He also removed his boot and sock as it looked odd to have them still visible at the end of his bare leg. He positioned the empty leg of his underwear so as to shield as much of him as was possible and clamped his bottom lip between his teeth.  
"Oooh, nasty," tutted the brigadier as he saw the large, egg shaped lump on the man's inner thigh. "Surprised you could ride at all with that.....Bethie, bring plenty of gauze, it's a beauty!" He spoke in a mixture of French and English, meaning Dolokhov only understood half of what was said.  
Elizabeth took her father's invitation to mean that her patient was ready and pasted a focussed, businesslike expression on her face as she crossed to the pair.   
She avoided eye contact with Dolokhov and pressed her lips together at the sight of his naked leg. He'd arranged himself tastefully, but the sight of so much of his muscular body on display was definitely alarming.   
His skin was paler than she'd imagined, but the hair covering him was dark and looked thick and coarse. His calf was shapely and his ankle and foot looked remarkably strong in comparison to her own. She dragged her eyes up towards his thigh and inhaled deeply, trying to make her breathing calm. It was muscular in a way that left her slightly speechless; she could see taut muscles beneath the skin and knew that in a moment she would have to touch him.   
The lump causing him pain was indeed a beauty as her father described.   
"Excuse me," she muttered as coolly as she could muster and pressed her fingertips lightly to the skin around the lump, ascertaining whether it felt like a separate form, or a mass of swelling. She noticed his own breathing was laboured as her fingers caressed is thigh. She was very much aware of her proximity to the most intimate part of his body, but tried to remain focussed on the wound.   
"It's a boil. I need to lance it to remove the pus," she explained in French, still steadfastly refusing to meet his gaze, although if she'd bothered to look she would have seen that his eyes were closed - although he was having difficulty maintaining a regular rate of breathing due to the lightness of her delicate fingers on his skin.  
Elizabeth took the scalpel from the basin and positioned a number of pieces of gauze around the swelling.  
At this point she did find his gaze, "This will hurt, I apologise," she stated bluntly.  
He nodded and responded, "Do not worry yourself Madam, please, just deal with it as best you are able."  
Without further ado she positioned her finger and thumb in such a way as to stretch the skin taut, noticing that the hairs on his thighs were not in fact coarse at all, but soft to her touch. She inserted the blade and made a small cut, feeling him tense beneath her and stifle a gasp with his teeth gritted.  
"Brave fellow.....I used to scream like a wounded dog!" her father laughed, causing Elizabeth to soften her demeanour slightly.  
She proceeded to release the stream of thick, creamy coloured pus from the swelling, using a large number of gauzes which she efficiently deposited in the bowl.  
Dolokhov risked watching her and was mesmerised by her focus and attention to the task, she seemed completely at ease and was indeed very proficient.  
She cleaned the cut and pressed around it further, still feeling softness and pus within the wound, although it had gone down considerably.  
"I need to apply a little pressure," she explained and Dolokhov nodded, sensing from her expression that this would mean further discomfort.  
She positioned her thumbs either side of the remaining swelling and pressed down firmly and sharply, resulting in a small yelp from the Russian, followed by an explosion of vile smelling pus from the wound which splattered itself across Elizabeth's gown, much to her and his surprise.  
Dolokhov looked mortified and started babbling in Russian, trying to reach out and remove the worst of it, but inadvertently making matters worse in the fact that his fingers stroked her breasts and the fabric of her gown down to her navel.  
Elizabeth on the other hand sniggered and then erupted in full blown laughter at the sight of her splattered gown, and the Russian's attempts to rectify the situation whilst still remaining decent. The brigadier joined in with his ridiculously loud laughter, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief at the ridiculousness of the situation.  
Dolokhov for his part lay splayed on the chaise, painfully aware that he'd showered the woman he was romantically attracted to in one of his bodily fluids that had never been on his wish list, and had just groped her breasts in an attempt to make things better.  
He slumped and grinned ruefully, thinking to himself that an erection was now the least of his worries.  
Once their laughter subsided, Elizabeth renewed her focus on his wound. She cleaned it and applied iodine, which stung in a pleasing way and then covered it with a clean wad of gauze before wrapping linen bandages around his firm thigh to hold it in place.  
Once completed she looked him in the eye; hers were twinkling; and when his own mortified gaze met hers he couldn't help but grin back making the small crinkles appear once more beside his eyes.  
"I fear this could be why nurses opt for aprons," she stated, indicating her gown.  
"I'm so sorry Miss Middleton," he offered, casting his eyes across the revulsion he'd peppered across her pristine white dress.  
"Why?" she countered, "It wasn't as though you did it on purpose," she stated matter of factly.  
"Yes, indeed.....let that be a lesson Bethie.......don't go into battle without armour next time......get your clothes back on my boy....and you'd better run and change your frock," the brigadier ventured.  
Elizabeth indicated the bowl, "We'll see to that my dear, off you go....this man needs a stiff drink after that!" and he poured 2 glasses of brandy.

As Elizabeth made her way quickly upstairs to her rooms she cast her mind back to what she had just experienced.  
She'd seen Captain Dolokhov almost naked. She'd actually touched his skin, allowed her fingers to travel across his flesh, and she'd allowed her eyes to wander towards the carefully positioned fabric of his underwear. She thought about the marble statues she'd seen in the museums in London - there were several showing naked masculine forms and she compared Dolokhov's body to them in her mind.  
Once in her room she rang for her maid and removed her gown, selecting a pale blue cotton dress as a replacement.  
She flung herself across her bed wearing only her chemise and giggled into her pillow in a manner most unbecoming to a member of the medical profession, and this was how the maid discovered her.  
Picking up the dress she raised her brows quizzically.  
"Captain Dolokhov had a boil......I lanced it.....rather too well I feel," and she wriggled into her clean dress.

Fedya Dolokhov downed the brandy he was offered and then redressed himself whilst the brigadier busied himself at his desk; as if occurrances such as this were commonplace to him.   
When he was once more smartly attired he regarded the shelves and selected a French novel, "May I?" he asked in English.  
The brigadier nodded warmly, "Of course dear boy.....feel better?" he indicated the man's thigh.  
The captain bent and flexed his leg at the knee and nodded, the pain had vanished....although now it was replaced by the anguish of knowing that he could never expect Miss Middleton to look at him in the same way again.  
"Good, good," and the brigadier returned to his correspondence at his desk. He seemed happy for the Russian to remain, but Dolokhov needed a little privacy and made his way back to his room, hoping beyond everything that he wouldn't bump into Miss Middleton.  
He removed his boots and jacket as he entered his room and lay on his freshly made bed.  
"По крайней мере, у меня не было эрекции!" he muttered as he shook his head.  
He wondered if he'd ever get one again in the company of Miss Middleton....he couldn't see anyway that he could.....but of course he was wrong.

In her rooms along the corridor Elizabeth was not allowing herself to imagine trailing her fingers across the muscular thighs of captain Dolokhov again....and she certainly wasn't considering what it would be like to trail her tongue across his skin....not at all!


	13. Refusing Freddie.....again!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie Ayeclyffe proposes again to Elizabeth. They are overheard by Dolokhov who accuses her of wanting to marry better.

The clock on her mantle issued it's chime, and she unenthusiastically rose from her chair, where she had been devouring more of Delphine, and re-reading some of the more saucy verses of Cattulus.......something about Captain Dolokhov's naked leg beneath her fingers had revived her interest in the more juicy descriptions.  
She had promised Freddie an audience, and of course assumed that he would propose....again; better to get it out of the way then she could enjoy the rest of the house party. She didn't enjoy continually refusing him; but he just didn't set her world on fire.  
When she thought of Captain Dolokhov, despite his womanising reputation; complete lack of breeding; apparent lack of interest in her and the other English women he'd met (obviously with the exception of Helena Corden.........he clearly found at least some parts of her interesting!), and when she thought about how his skin had felt beneath her fingertips; the skin of his taut, muscular thigh, well........she felt distinctly female.  
And when she thought of Freddie - which as a matter of fact was not very frequently - she felt distinctly, well.....nothing.  
She checked herself in the mirror and fiddled a little with a few stray wisps of her hair (why did a few tendrils always fall out of any style she attempted?) and made her way downstairs.  
Booth passed her in the hallway, "Mr Ayeclyffe is waiting for you in the conservatory Miss Middleton."  
Elizabeth smiled and thanked him and took a deep breath as she made her way through the sitting room and music room before entering the warm, fragrant surroundings of the bright conservatory. She loved the room as a rule; to be surrounded by greenery and tropical, colourful blooms made her spirits soar, especially in the depths of a Northumberland winter, but at this time of year it was a pleasant extension of outdoors.  
Freddie was pacing close to one of the loveseats and stilled as she approached.  
"Freddie, you wished to speak to me?" Elizabeth began.  
Freddie indicated for her to sit down and stretched his already long neck in a manner that reminded her of a seabird.  
"Miss Middleton; Elizabeth if I may be so bold. For some time I have admired you, and I have thought that you could make me very happy. May I hope that you could have developed a little admiration for me and consent to be my wife?" he dropped to his knee at the final statement and held her hand in his own; which felt clammy.  
He looked up at her with hopeful, but uninspiring eyes.  
"Freddie, you have now asked me to be your wife on six occasions," she removed her hand from his, "I've always refused you and simply said I'm greatly honoured, but no thank you."  
"I know, but it is customary for ladies to refuse a chap once or twice before finally submitting to them," Freddie replied with a vague flick of the head and a slightly bored expression.  
"But why should I?" Elizabeth asked.  
Freddie looked rather taken aback, "Well, like I said, I think you'd make me happy, I admire you greatly and well, I think my life would be rather more jolly if I were married to you."  
Elizabeth now looked taken aback, and she stood, moving away from the loveseat, "Those are reasons for you to marry me.....I asked why should I marry YOU! Freddie, I have nothing against you at all; you are very sweet and undoubtedly loyal and obedient, but so is a beagle! When I marry I want to have a reason, a good one; one that makes me want to leap into the air and shout out wildly....and I'm sorry, but I cannot think of a reason for me to marry you Freddie, I'm sorry, really I am."  
Freddie had risen from his knees and was seated on the loveseat by this point. His shoulders were slumped, but as he listened to Elizabeth's comments he couldn't help but admire her more - she was right of course. He stood and faced her, his eyes now showed the emotion and warmth that she would have expected when he was asking her to be his wife. "If you'll excuse me Miss Middleton. I trust this will not affect my seeing you at dinner this evening."  
Elizabeth met his gaze and gave him an apologetic but reassuring smile.  
He turned and strode off, clearing his throat while Elizabeth considered her next move - to return to the solitude of her room, or seek out some company. She decided to take a turn around the rest of the conservatory to give Freddie the opportunity to escape without crossing his path.

Dolokhov was seated around the curve in the path, out of sight of where Freddie and Elizabeth had been engrossed in their business. He had heard their conversation and was able to deduce that a proposal had been made and refused. Not wishing to interrupt he had hoped to slip out later, unnoticed where he would keep their conversation strictly to himself. However, he saw a flash of blue and knew that Elizabeth was approaching him. He cleared his throat and placed his novel onto the side table as he rose to formally greet her.  
Shock flashed across Elizabeth's face. Had he heard? What a silly question, of course he had - but whether he had made out the topic under discussion was another matter.  
He reverted to French to converse with her, "I will not insult your intelligence by pretending that I did not overhear your discussion with Mr Ayeclyffe," he said, finding her eyes with his own piercing green ones.  
She tried not to dissolve into them as she replied, "I'm sorry you had to witness that, it wasn't very tactful of me, but it isn't the first time he has asked."  
He smirked and his eyes looked wistful, "And yet he still tries despite your repeated refusals.....you must have quite a hold on his heart Miss Middleton."  
Elizabeth looked at him levelly, "Well Captain, not all gentlemen find me unintelligent, vapid and plain," and she turned on her heel before she could see the look of confusion cross his face.  
She stopped and turned rather than stalk off, "Freddie is a dear boy, and a gentleman......and......."  
"....and what........you think so little of him that you flatly refuse his offer, despite the fact that he clearly adores you?" Dolokhov almost shouted.  
Elizabeth realised she was breathing heavily and that the pair of them were now quite close; Dolokhov's cologne wafted into her nostrils and she noticed that a piece of his hair had fallen across his brow; she fought the urge to tease it back to join the rest of his unruly mane.  
He continued speaking harshly, "I'm sure if he was a Duke, or a Lord you'd accept him like a shot; get yourself a nice title to parade about with....you probably think he isn't good enough for you; that only a man of breeding and from the aristocracy could possibly be worthy of your beauty and charms."  
It was now his turn to realise he was breathing heavily and was dangerously close to her; he could see small goose pimples on her arms, and a flurry of tiny freckles scattered across her nose and breast. His gaze dropped to her lips, which were parted and the kind of plump pinkness that made a man like him weak at the knees.  
He half expected her to strike him, but instead she met his passion fuelled eyes with her own; which looked sad and disappointed, " I should not think such a thing," she muttered, sadly "......as you would know, sir, if you would know me at all," and she walked away from him.


	14. Not afraid of a bit of work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> following their 'argument' Elizabeth decides to put the Captain out of her mind.....but then she sees him in the stables.....

Fedya Dolokhov clenched his fists and slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead, as if to try and remove the image of Elizabeth Middleton's saddened features from his memory. Why had he raised his voice to her? Why had he almost let his own feelings and inadequacies take over? And why hadn't he just kissed her....at least that way he wouldn't have been able to insult her.......although in his defence most ladies of breeding were only ever interested in a title and money.......hence why he wasn't the marrying kind.  
She'd looked so deflated and disappointed in him before she'd walked away; he'd have preferred it if she'd struck him.

Elizabeth bit her lip to prevent the tears welling at her eyes from sliding down her cheeks. He'd raised his voice at her and basically accused her of being lacking in feeling and a money grabbing title hunter. How dare he! In her own home too......and he'd been close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek, and she'd wanted him to reach out and devour her with his uneven lips.......but he clearly felt nothing for her and saw her as a vapid, uninteresting and unwanted folly.  
She felt such a fool.  
Upon reaching her room she threw herself to her bed and finally allowed the tears to fall silently across her cheeks. Hugging her pillow to herself she tried not to see his face each time she closed her eyes; but it was impossible. His dark hair and green eyes, full of passion and fire were etched on her memory. His musky scent had intoxicated her; although his almost venom filled words, spat in her direction had acted like a pail of water to her rising emotions.  
Cried out, she sat up and dried her face. There would be other men.....perhaps, and there was always Freddie! 

She descended the staircase for luncheon, hoping that Captain Dolokhov would have the manners to eat in his room; however Fedya Dolokhov's manners were not those of most gentlemen. Instead she found him already seated, next to Helena Corden she noticed.   
"Ahh, Bethie, you do look pale my dear, perhaps some air would be beneficial after luncheon my dear girl," her father commented as the gentlemen, and Dolokhov, rose for her to be seated.  
The Russian cast a sly and all encompassing glance over her, noting with a mixture of hope and pain that she had clearly been crying. His features softened slightly and he tried to gain her gaze, but she directed her attentions fully towards George Fitzallen instead, and Dolokhov's thoughts were instantly brought back to the present by the proximity of Helena Corden's hand to his most intimately masculine parts.

Elizabeth avoided looking at him throughout luncheon, but his rumbling baritone voice and laughter permeated her Dolokhov free zone. She rolled her eyes at each shrill cackle emanating from Helena Corden and sensed rather than witnessed her draping herself across the Russian Captain.....but he wasn't and would never be her Russian Captain; so she would not allow it to affect her equilibrium.

Following luncheon Elizabeth took the opportunity of escaping and accompanied Clara and Emily on a sedate ride around Middleton Park. Emily noticed her friend's quietness, and also the tell tale puffiness to her face, but didn't pry. Clara talked at length about George, and Emily took delight in pointing out her brother's short comings at length; but it didn't seem to affect Clara's opinion of him.

Dolokhov wanted to rest his leg and make sure it healed, so walking and riding were out of the question. He did however want to take part in some physical activity; and despite her overt flirtation earlier he did not intend to sleep with Mrs Corden under the brigadier's roof; so he headed for the stables. There were several beautiful mounts left behind, and he approached a huge, black mare confidently, speaking soothingly in Russian to it. The stable boys didn't question him; they recognised an experienced horseman and settled back to their tasks as he took a pair of bristle brushes and began to sweep them across the flank of the beast, who snorted out affectionate puffs of breath in gratitude.  
He enjoyed the physical nature of the task and tried not to picture Miss Middleton's face.....unsuccessfully.

When the ladies returned to the stable yard they heard a great deal of amused, male voices and were slightly taken aback to see Captain Dolokhov, stripped down to his shirt and breeches, wheeling a barrow of used horse bedding out of the stable, followed by one of the stable boys doing the same.  
Dolokhov paused briefly; made a note of the 3 ladies - thinking how well Elizabeth looked in the saddle - he nodded his head in their rough direction before taking the barrow across to join the pile and tipping the contents easily out before slapping the stable boy on the back, running his hand through his hair and striding languidly back to the stable block.  
Emily, Clara and Elizabeth caught each others' gaze - it was quite alluring to watch a man dressed so casually taking part in such a menial but physical task. And he'd deposited the large barrow with so little effort; Elizabeth couldn't help but picture his muscular thighs beneath those breeches, and the broad shoulders that had hefted the weight across the yard.  
They were led one by one to the block in order to dismount and boys came to take their horses inside. Out of curiosity Elizabeth followed her horse inside where she gasped at the sight of the Captain forking fresh straw into one of the stables. He was almost knee deep in the straw, his stance wide and low with a shimmer of sweat visible across his brow. His shirt had fallen open down to the single button at his waist exposing an expanse of dark, damp hair. Elizabeth realised that she was staring and that her mouth had fallen slightly open as she watched him working.  
Eventually, after far too short a time, he startled as he saw her. He stopped and rested casually on his pitchfork, but didn't attempt to make himself more presentable to her; he just met her eyes with a steely and unrepenting glare.  
He wasn't ashamed of working, and he wasn't so fine that he didn't realise the work involved in keeping an estate such as this alive and vibrant. He'd come to the stables for his own relief, but found that indulging himself in a little physical work had revived his spirits, and also made him realise his own inadequacies - he wasn't a gentleman, and no lady of breeding would ever consider him thus; so why pretend to be something he wasn't. He had worked up a healthy sweat, felt his muscles working and had several clean stables and well groomed horses as reward.   
And now Elizabeth Middleton was regarding him with open mouthed.....was it horror? was it desire? Whatever it was, he wouldn't allow it to affect his equilibrium.  
She was transfixed by his completely masculine aura; her thoughts flicked back to luncheon and Helena Corden's giggles - what exactly had he done to her in that library? She realised he was staring very fixedly at her chest - he was watching her breathing as it became increasingly rapid - Elizabeth felt very aware of her breasts pressing against the deep green velvet of her riding habit and stifled a sob in her throat as she watched him reach across for a flagon of ale and take a deep draught of it, licking his lips to remove the traces.  
She felt a ridiculous intensity to the air between them. She left, looking over her shoulder as she reached the doorway and noticed that he was still watching her.  
He turned and inserted the pitchfork aggressively into a pile of straw with a grunt of exertion.


	15. He rarely dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the evening, following an eventful day there is dancing at Middleton Hall. Plus a bit of naughtiness from Dolokhov and Elizabeth....but separately!

Elizabeth paid particular attention to her toilette before dressing for dinner. Her mind was almost completely filled with images of Fedya Dolokhov in her stable block; and in her imagination he threw down the pitchfork, grabbed her in a passionate embrace and threw her down into the fresh straw. She never got any further with her thoughts as she always shook the possibility of what would happen next out of her head, but she made a detour through the sculpture gallery of her home on her way to the parlour. Her mother and father shared a love of art, and this was her mother's own personal collection. There were several recumbent nudes, both masculine and female in form; all based on Greek myths, and her personal favourite stood centrally in the room. It depicted a couple engrossed in each other, their hands caressing each others' naked bodies and their lips tantalisingly close. It was considered quite a risqué piece, and many husbands would have sensored their wives' tastes; but Charles Middleton did not believe in women as asexual beings and enjoyed his wife's taste.  
Elizabeth was deep in contemplation, her thoughts were of Captain Dolokhov.....his lips being that close to her own, his hand cupping her breast and nestling against her hip, her own hand resting on his muscular stomach, the other on his bicep; as depicted in marble before her.  
"Quite beautiful," came the highly accented English from the Russian captain's mouth.   
Elizabeth jumped out of her private reflection. He didn't make any move in her direction. She watched as he trailed his hand across the leg and buttocks of the reclining Venus.  
"My mother has excellent taste," she replied.  
He met her gaze, "I hadn't noticed the statue," he growled, before turning to stroll towards the rest of the guests.  
Elizabeth sunk back, resting against the plinth and allowing her head to tip backwards. she noticed it was resting against the masculine buttocks of the statue and she whimpered, "Ridiculous!" she muttered, before pulling herself together.....he had just inadvertently called her beautiful though!

In the parlour there was much merriment. A card game was in progress, Clara was attempting to draw silhouettes at a stand near to the fireplace - George was the loyal subject and she smiled, wondering when he would finally notice what was clear to everyone else.  
Emily welcomed her, "Oh my dear.....I can't condone the man's behaviour, but how completely glorious was the sight of that Russian in just his shirt!" she giggled. Elizabeth returned the laughter - as a way of release as much as anything else - and rolled her eyes at her friend. Both regarded the captain who was dressed once again in that peacock blue waistcoat with a cream coloured shirt and dark grey trousers and coat. There was no denying how dashing he looked.  
"He's a scoundrel Emily! You told be yourself what he did with Mrs Corden , and his behaviour in the stables was...well.....not becoming of a gentleman!" Elizabeth breathed.   
"Hhmmmmm," Emily replied, directly her eyebrows skywards and nodding her head at her friend. "And what exactly were YOU doing to the delicious Dolokhov in the library?"  
Elizabeth blushed slightly, but returned her friend's glare, "Lancing his boil!.....and no, that isn't a euphemism!" and they laughed.  
Dolokhov heard the sound of her laughter behind him. It wasn't forced, fake or restrained; it was the sound of joy and pure amusement, and he adored it....damn.....he adored her. 

Cook had prepared a rather wonderful array of buffet style dishes for consumption throughout the evening. Elizabeth selected several items, including some of her favourite cheese tartlets and sat alongside Helena Corden to eat; it being one of the few available seats.  
"My dear, you are so lucky. This estate is so hidden away and wild! Makes one come over quite primitive," Mrs Corden purred whilst pulling meat from a lobster claw with her teeth. Elizabeth noticed that the woman's eyes were focussed across the room, towards the piano where Dolokhov was involved in an animated discussion with the brigadier.  
"The scenery maybe; but I trust you don't insinuate that the society is primitive or wild?" Elizabeth responded.  
"Oh no my dear, no your society is as ever quite delightful....although some of the group is definitely less refined, and rather delicious for it!" and she wrinkled her nose, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Dolokhov and the brigadier were engaged in a discussion about a piece of music which the brigadier had placed upon the stand and was busy seating himself. He began the opening bars of what was clearly not a classical piece. To the surprise and delight of everyone Dolokhov and Elizabeth's father began to sing the same Russian lyrics in their well matched, deep baritone voices. Elizabeth had rarely seen her father so animated, and Dolokhov appeared to be enjoying himself equally - without knowing the language it was impossible to ascertain the meaning, but by their rousing rendition and gestures it appeared to be some sort of army song - possibly full of patriotism, possibly full of debauchery (judging by the 2 men's stifled guffaws at one point!)  
As the song ended, the salon erupted into sincere applause. Elizabeth joined in and smiled widely as her father was dragged up from the piano stool by Dolokhov to share in the adulation. Her father seemed to genuinely enjoy the company of the younger Russian which made Elizabeth more attracted than ever to him. As the room continued to clap and cheer Dolokhov found her waiting eyes and saw the open admiration in them, it caused a slight hitch in his breathing when she mouthed the word 'Bravo' and flashed him a sensual smile from beneath her dark lashes. He responded with a slight nod in her direction and a roguish grin, showing his teeth.

The jovial atmosphere in the room continued as Elizabeth's mother sat at the stool and began to play a popular dancing reel. Several of the younger guests immediately joined in and began to dance in the area where seats and rugs had been removed for this very purpose.  
Dolokhov made his way across to Elizabeth and Mrs Corden.  
"You certainly are a man of many talents," trilled Helena as she held her hand out for the captain's lips.  
He rather formally greeted her before turning to Elizabeth, who felt slightly uncomfortable given her knowledge of their relationship. Did he want her to leave them?  
Helena continued to try to dominate, "Oh I do hope you will thrill us with your dancing later," she giggled.  
Dolokhov didn't remove his gaze from Elizabeth, but answered, "I'm afraid madam that I rarely dance, it requires one to make pleasing conversation whilst being physically active....and I find that I am inclined to only one of those qualities at a time," he almost growled the final comment, making Helena Corden melt into giggles and start fanning herself wildly.  
"In that case, remind me never to accompany you on a walk!" quipped Elizabeth, and noting the amused sparkle in his eyes.  
"For you, Miss Middleton, I may be inclined to improve myself," he almost whispered, his breath close to her cheek felt warm and smelled faintly of wine.  
"I do not feel that you require improvement, sir," she replied, and for a moment the room contained only she and him, their eyes locked in deep contemplation of the other.  
Helena Corden broke the frisson, "But of course, why would a man such as yourself require improving on!" and she threaded her arm through his, "Would you escort me to find my husband, or some wine," she almost demanded before turning him bodily around, not before he was able to mouth, "Forgive me?" towards Elizabeth.  
And yes, she forgave him for Helena Corden, and for the countless other conquests he had had. And she forgave him for leaving her alone in the salon, because she felt as though he had left a small part of him with her in the way he had looked upon her with eyes that could not fully conceal his ardour.

Elizabeth danced a cotillion with George Fitzallen, and then took part in a reel with Freddie Ayeclyffe. She enjoyed dancing amongst her friends and knew that here, in her own home, she could participate without fear of rumour mongering over who she selected as a partner.  
A slight hush and gasp fluttered around the room as Sarah Middleton began to play one of the new, and considered unseemly, waltz melodies. Nobody ventured towards the dance floor, so the brigadier invited Elizabeth to participate in the dance with him. She smiled warmly and it felt almost breathtakingly beautiful to swirl around in her fathers' arms. George joined in by asking his sister, Emily and General Corden accompanied his wife (much to her chagrin as it forced her out of Dolokhov's company.  
Halfway through the tune Elizabeth became aware of a presence looming behind her. Her father paused and smiled over her shoulder.  
"May I?" and before Elizabeth could speak a word she found the arms of her father replaced by the strong and enveloping ones belonging to Fedya Dolokhov.   
As was the fashion, the waltz was a slow sequence of movements performed on the balls of the feet. Elizabeth was acutely aware of her closeness to the captain's body, and also of how firm and warm it felt under her fingers. The hand resting in his own appeared captured by his larger one, and the other resting on his shoulder could feel his muscles tensing and relaxing in rhythm to the movements.  
Dolokhov tried to remain calm and focus on the dance, his breathing and body could easily become out of control given the fact that he was holding Elizabeth Middleton so closely to him. The feel of her slender hand in his own was heaven, and he was acutely aware of how her hand on his shoulder flexed as he moved. His own rested on her back and he hoped he would not sweat through the thin fabric of her gown. She was only a couple of inches shorter than him, and he manoeuvred her around the wooden floor gracefully and with control.   
"I shall endeavour not to tie you into pleasing conversation captain, given that you struggle to converse and dance simultaneously," Elizabeth stated with a mischievous glint.  
"Does that mean that you are enjoying dancing with me and would not like it cease?" he quipped back, finally bringing his eyes to hers.  
Elizabeth dragged her focus away from the hairs of his beard, which had captured her attention, together with the spicy but subtle scent of his cologne.  
"I enjoy dancing, and I particularly enjoy the relative solitude of the waltz....so no; I would not like it to cease prematurely," she replied guardedly.  
Dolokhov relaxed a little into the dance, which was more familiar to him than many of the English reels and cotillions. "It amazes me that it is considered a risqué dance.....we are after all in full view of the other guests....it isn't as though anything untoward could take place between us," and she felt his thumb caress the skin of her hand in slow, delicious circles, matching their movements.  
"I agree," Elizabeth smiled, and she allowed the hand resting on his shoulder to adjust itself , her fingers momentarily finding his hair, and she heard him stifle a small groan.  
They were slightly aware of the other guests around them, and of some nudged whispers; but Elizabeth didn't care, she was dancing with the most handsome man she had ever met, and she could stay in his arms forever; he had clearly reflected upon his earlier comments, and perhaps he didn't see her as a money grabbing title hunter after all!

When the tune ended he bowed and she curtsied before he extended his arm to escort her from the dance floor.  
"I feel I am beginning to know you a little better, Miss Middleton," he stated, smiling at her with his green eyes.  
Elizabeth nodded at him, "And I you, captain."  
Their intimacy was interrupted by Lord Croft who engulfed his friend in a rather drunken embrace and the pair moved on, Dolokhov somewhat reluctantly.

Shortly afterwards Elizabeth retired up to her rooms. The party was beginning to quieten - her parents and the Featherstones had retired earlier and the servants had begun to remove some of the refreshments at Elizabeth's request.  
She took a candle to guide her to her room, smiling at the memory of Dolokhov's hand grasping her waist and his breath against her neck. The thought alone sent shivers running down her spine, collecting between her legs in a warm and exotic feeling.  
She made a slight hitch to her breathing as he emerged from the shadows at the end of the hallway.  
"Forgive me, Miss Middleton, but I could not sleep without saying goodnight to you," he advanced towards her and she tightened her grip on the candle in it's brass holder.  
Elizabeth thought how incredibly handsome he looked in the flickering candlelight - her own breath causing the flame to dance. He made no further movement towards her, he was a couple of paces away from her, but was not blocking her access to her room.  
"I trust I will see you tomorrow?" he half asked, half stated.  
"Yes. You shall," Elizabeth smiled, suddenly feeling self conscious. She turned and twisted the door knob and felt him move directly behind her.  
He leaned in close to the nape of her neck and breathed rather than spoke, "Good night, Miss Middleton."  
Elizabeth gasped at the heat of him behind her, and she allowed her eyelids to fall closed as he remained stood close to her. Turning her head to reply to him she realised their proximity and started a little at the closeness of their lips. Forcing her eyes up to meet his she saw unbridled passion reflected in them; it would be so easy to close the small distance between them and press her lips to his; and in his eyes she saw the same thoughts crossing his mind.  
Reluctantly however, he tenderly took her free hand, raised it to his lips and at the last moment turned it to place his lips on the smooth skin of her wrist, gasping a little as he felt her fingers impulsively caress his beard.  
It was now his turn to look startled, "Goodnight, Captain," she breathed, "Until tomorrow."

After her door had closed she rested back against it, unable to remove the smile from her face or the pounding of her heart.   
On the other side of the door Dolokhov paced several steps away from Elizabeth's door before pausing to clench his fists and punch one into his open palm. She was interested in him......she was so beautiful.......and she was a fine lady........but she didn't seem worried that he was a nobody....that he had no title; no money. And she wished to see him tomorrow. He thought about how light she had felt in his arms as they were dancing together, and about how her eyes had danced at his when they talked. He hastened to his room so that he could think about her in more private surroundings.

Elizabeth eventually moved away from the door and began to remove the barrettes from her hair, although the only vision she saw in the reflection was of a dashing, dark haired Russian captain. She thought about how his hand had felt around her waist, guiding her firmly around the dance floor, and how his body had felt beneath her hand. She thought about his languid form appearing from the shadows near to her room and how it had felt to have him stand so closely behind her at her door. And he wished to see more of her tomorrow.....part of her wished to see more of him immediately.....however, flashing images of the evening would have to suffice.  
She peeled off her cream gown and chemise and pulled her nightgown over her head and dark curls. 

Dolokhov undressed and lay naked under his bedsheets, thoughts of Elizabeth Middleton making it impossible for him to settle. He allowed his hand to drop to the bandage she'd applied to his thigh earlier in the day. The pain had subsided....and she'd been responsible for that. He moved his hand across to his throbbing erection - she'd been responsible for that too! He dropped his head back onto his pillows and allowed his hand to relieve the ache. He wished fervently that it was Elizabeth herself bringing him to release, but thoughts of her would have to suffice. In his mind he saw her recumbent on his bed, he didn't dare imagine her naked, he saw her writhing with her dark hair around her face and he felt himself stiffen further beneath his hand. He spread some of the leaking juice at his tip along his shaft to ease the friction and felt his breathing quicken, knowing he was close. One final image of her turning to whisper goodnight to him sent him over the edge and he groaned as he shot his hot, salty fluid across the sheets and his torso.

In her own bed Elizabeth could not settle, she felt herself moist between her legs and a dull ache throbbed, making her think about some of her Sappho and Cattulus....she slipped her elegant fingers down and slowly stroked herself, spreading the wetness she found along her folds. She allowed her head to drop back and her eyes to close, imagining Dolokhov's hand there in her place. She saw images of him; standing between her bed posts, removing that waistcoat, standing in his open shirt knee deep in the straw in the stable; the final image made her shudder and her fingers slipped down to her entrance.She pushed one inside her centre and gasped at the sensation; images of those uneven lips and the proximity of them to her own when she had whispered goodnight made her involuntarily rock against her own hand and she boldly inserted another of her fingers. Her thumb rested against the small nub buried within her thatch and after a series of rhythmical strokes she felt herself tumbling downwards, a vision of Dolokhov's dark, hooded eyes vivid in her mind.

They both slept soundly.


	16. The letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dolokhov and Elizabeth intend to spend a day becoming increasingly well acquainted, but this is cut short by the arrival of a letter...

Dolokhov woke lazily; luxuriating in the feeling of his warm, soft bed and the equally warm and soft thought in his head of Miss Elizabeth Middleton. She had agreed to see him today; he would ask her to ride - his thigh felt much better and if they could take another couple for proprieties sake he was sure they could 'lose' them so that he could talk with her alone.

Elizabeth almost leapt from her bed when she awoke. She would see him again today; and with fresh, new eyes. He had made it clear that his thoughts of her were not equal to the way he thought of Mrs Corden or his other salacious conquests. At least that is what she told herself; what she so desperately wanted to believe.  
She hoped he would suggest a ride, she'd make sure that Emily and George accompanied them; and she'd also make sure that they lost them for at least part of the day...

Captain Dolokhov's appetite matched his mood and he sat at the breakfast table before a plate piled high with beef and mushrooms which he tucked into heartily, sucking the bloodied meat into his mouth with an almost animalistic lack of propriety; much to the wanton desire of Helena Corden seated lower down the table.  
The brigadier was enjoying his own food and a discussion with General Corden about possible ways of improving housing and sanitation for worker's cottages on their estates when Booth arrived with the post.  
He arranged correspondence for his master and Miss Middleton first before taking the tray around the table to the captain. He waited momentarily for him to empty his mouth and wipe across his moustache with his napkin before presenting a somewhat dog eared letter addressed in a curled script. He instantly recognised the script of his sister - the letter had been addressed initially to Lord Croft's estate, which was the location he had suggested in the letter he had written to her - but had been crossed out and readdressed in a different, smaller hand to Middleton Hall. It had clearly been written and sent a number of days, possibly even a week earlier.  
Dolokhov opened it whilst continuing his meal, but almost instantly slammed down his fork and abruptly jumped up fro the table, his chair falling backwards to the floor in his haste.  
"Dolokhov? Bad news is it?" enquired Elizabeth's father, somewhat rhetorically - it was perfectly clear that whatever was within the letter was dreadful news; it was plastered across the face of the Russian as he almost ran from the room.

Elizabeth entered the breakfast room a little later, accompanied by Clara and Emily. The trio were chattering in an uncharacteristic for Elizabeth manner about the previous evening....George had apparently grazed Clara's hand whilst passing her a drawing pencil.....they were as good as engaged!  
The servants had left Captain Dolokhov's meal at the table - his abrupt exit had flustered them a little and they didn't wish to inflame his ire if he returned - and Elizabeth noted it, half consumed, as the ladies seated themselves around her own pile of letters. 

Elizabeth was a little disappointed not to see the captain during breakfast, and then she overheard Booth talking to her father;  
"Shall I remove Captain Dolokhov's meal, sir?"  
"Yes, yes, chap went off quite het up after that letter, didn't he? Take it, but tell cook to be prepared to make him something later if her requires it. the man looked upset....takes the appetite," her father stated in as quiet a voice as he ever used (which was still significantly loud enough for the room to hear!)  
Elizabeth waited for Booth to retire with the used crockery items on a tray before she confronted her father,  
"Did Captain Dolokhov receive some bad news, father?" she enquired.  
"Seemed to my dear. chap just jumped up and strode off, Lord knows where....looked rattled though," he absently explained whilst organising his letters into one pile before taking them to his library.  
Elizabeth excused herself from Clara and Emily and wandered out of the breakfast room. What news could he have received? From whom? Was it a past misdemeanour catching up with him? And where was he?  
She sauntered through to the salon and music rooms; there was no sign. She considered whether approaching his room would be appropriate but decided against it, instead she apprehended one of the male housemen and asked whether Captain Dolokhov was in his room.  
"No, Miss Elizabeth, I believe you may find him in the conservatory," came the formal response, followed by a less formal, "He looked right upset Miss."

Elizabeth stilled her nerves as she made her way to the conservatory. She couldn't see any movement but wandered cautiously around the curve in the stone path, allowing her fingers to caress the lush foliage as she did. She heard him before she saw him and wondered whether he would wish for company given that he was clearly crying - great sobs wracked his body and emanated from him. Elizabeth hadn't held herself back though and when she rounded the palm could see his shoulders shaking, his head buried in his hands and the letter discarded at his feet.   
Every ounce of her reserve and self restraint melted at his abject grief and she wanted to wrap herself around his shuddering shoulders and have him bury his tear stained face into her shoulder.....but she knew that gentlemen, especially soldiers did not want to share emotions with women.  
So she back up a few paces and began to hum loudly - what she realised was the waltz melody they had danced to the previous evening. She heard him utter a string of Russian and gave him what she thought might be sufficient time to gather himself before appearing.  
He hadn't however made any attempt to conceal his emotions, and didn't shirk away from her, instead he picked up the discarded letter and scanned it again before covering his face with his hand and sobbing afresh.  
His lack of starchy restraint moved her immensely. She moved towards him and sat alongside him on the bench, her hand moving to grasp the letter from his clenched hand. He relinquished it and shifted slightly , dragging his hands through his tousled hair. Glancing at his face she could see that his eyes were filled with tears, his cheeks puffy and streaked; glancing at the note was of no use as she could see from the opening statement that it was in Russian.  
"I...?......can I fetch anything? Anyone?" Elizabeth offered.  
Dolokhov appeared to see her at last, but didn't try to conceal anything from her. He sniffed deeply and swiped his cuff across his face:  
"The worst news.........my mother...." and he dissolved once more into body wrenching sobs, tears spilling from his eyes.  
Elizabeth reached out a tentative hand to his shoulder and rested it there as lightly as a feather. He reached across and clasped his own, slightly damp from tears, but warm and strong one over it and seemed to gather a little self control.  
".....it was peaceful.....in her sleep," he hiccoughed, but didn't remove his hand from Elizabeth's, instead he brought it down to rest on his thigh and brought his second hand over to join it.  
Elizabeth was acutely aware of how close they were, of how warm and manly his body felt next to her own, and how small, and right, her hand felt enveloped in his. He was absently tracing his thumb across the soft skin on the back of her hand, sending shivers down her spine, although part of her felt ashamed at feeling so attracted to him in his present state of obvious grief.  
She adjusted her hair and quietly cleared her throat before asking, "Who notified you?"  
"My sister......my dearest sister; she depends on me, they both do.....did...." he began to sob again, but without tears this time.  
Elizabeth didn't know what to say; so she didn't speak; she simply sat and allowed him to stroke her arm, which appeared to calm him sufficiently for his sobs to cease.  
After what felt like a prolonged time he cleared his throat and spoke in a more level and controlled manner,  
"I need to attend to this......I.....I need to organise finances for Katerina.....for the funeral," and he abruptly let go of her hand, standing and pacing like a caged lion across to the rhododendron which he began to pick at.  
"Will you be returning to Russia immediately?" Elizabeth cautiously asked, realising that this enormous event could remove him from her life; just when she had found him.  
He didn't turn to her, "I can't go back," his shoulders sank a little, "I have enough funds to pay for my mother's funeral...one which befits my love for her.....or; I have enough money to return to Russia to pay my respects to her......" he turned sadly towards her, "....but not sufficient for both."  
His face was a picture of misery and torment and it took every ounce of restraint for Elizabeth not to rush to him and press for lips to his achingly quivering lips.  
"I will leave you and ask Booth to begin packing for you, if I may?" she offered, quietly.  
He nodded; this would no doubt end their acquaintance. He may not be able to return to Russia, but he would almost certainly be penniless as a result of this, and would have to find some way of providing funds for his sister. Until now he'd managed to scrape together enough winnings on the card tables to send a small sum home to them whilst living hand to mouth on the generosity of his friends and splashing out on meals and drinks for them to remain in their favour.....not exactly true friends he reflected.  
He watched as she walked calmly back to the hallway and gave short, concise instructions to Booth before heading to the library; no doubt she was being tactful so that he could return to the salon or his room without crossing her path again.  
She was an angel.....but then his dear mother had also been his angel; his dearest most sacred angel....and he hadn't been with her at the end....and he wouldn't be able to see her face a last time.  
Not for the first time in his life he damned his lack of money and strode up the stairs as he began to feel fresh tears stinging his eyes.


	17. I need your council, father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth seeks her father's advice on how to help Captain Dolokhov.

Elizabeth knew that her father would be in his library and entered without knocking.  
He looked up from his ledger and smiled at her; he instantly noticed her strained expression.  
"Bethie? What is it? First Dolokhov and now you?" he asked in surprise, turning in his chair to give her his full attention.  
She approached his desk and sat on the low bench beside the window, facing him.  
"I need your council, father," she stated, her father nodded as she continued, "I am afraid Captain Dolokhov has received some dreadful news; his mother has died in Russia."   
Brigadier Middleton clasped his hand to his mouth and his eyes reflected sadness, but Elizabeth continued calmly,  
"He has confided in me something which I feel is unfair....and I think I am in a position to aide him.....but I don't know how; or even whether I should?!"  
The brigadier took Elizabeth's hand in his own, "Elizabeth dearest, if you are in a position to help another then you always should do so; regardless of whether it is 'proper' or the done thing.....you know I don't hold any of that etiquette jollop in any kind of standing....how do you feel you could help the Captain?  
Elizabeth smiled; her father was a wonderful man....perhaps Dolokhov's mother had been similar in his eyes.  
"He has made me aware that he has limited funds.....he can either send money to his sister to arrange the funeral, or he could return to Russia to pay his final respects to his mother; but sadly he cannot do both; so he has resigned himself to paying for a funeral and never setting eyes on his beloved mother again. Papa, surely that cannot be right?!"  
The brigadier's breath hitched in his throat at his daughter's words. "What a dreadful choice to have to bear," he muttered, "You are right to wish to help Elizabeth.....but I would ask you to permit me to resolve this.....I feel it would be more suitable; and potentially more sensitive to the man's pride."  
Elizabeth considered how openly Dolokhov had wept in front of her earlier, but nodded in agreement. She was sure that her father would rectify this situation in the best way he could.......although obviously it would take Dolokhov far, far away from her. If he returned to Russia how on earth would he make his way back to England?   
The brigadier noticed her slightly changed expression, "He seems like a very decent man; despite the stories about his rather salubrious past," he stated.  
Elizabeth nodded sadly. He continued, "Don't fret; if he's worthy of you he'll find a way back to you my dear." Elizabeth's eyes sprang wide at her father's comment; was it so obvious that he liked him?   
He grinned at her, "Now then, get off with you and let me deal with this."

Elizabeth bumped into Emily and they collected their pelisse to walk in the grounds. Elizabeth was pleased for the fresh air, and Emily was pleased to spend some time with her friend.  
"So......you and Captain Dolokhov seemed very well suited when dancing last night!" she began, "Tell me, how did it feel to be in the arms of such a scoundrel?"  
Elizabeth wanted to laugh and share a female chat with her friend, but she was side tracked by the image of sorrow she had last seen in the Russian.  
"I enjoyed dancing with him, despite his reputation.....maybe because of it? Who knows? He certainly is charming and is rather easy to talk to," she offered.  
Emily jumped on her comments, "What do you mean.....because of his reputation? You can't possibly think that having seduced half of the Russian aristocracy makes him attractive?"   
Elizabeth smiled shyly, "I don't think THAT is what makes him attractive....no," and she blushed.  
Emily span around, grabbing her friend by the forearms, "You mean you DO think he is attractive though? Elizabeth, you cannot possibly be considering him?"  
She looked her friend squarely in the eyes, "I don't know enough of his past deviances to make a comment..." she was cut off by Emily,  
"Helena Corden is not a past deviance....she's current!"  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes a little, "....he has certainly....lived....but compare him to Freddie....or even your brother, or Lord Croft....I can't explain, but he is just far more interesting than any of them.....more intriguing; and you have to admit he is devilishly handsome!"  
Emily giggled and rolled her eyes back, she would not and indeed could not disagree with that statement, she whispered as if divulging the greatest secret, "Alistair told me that he saw him demonstrating his swordsmanship skills wearing a pair of black, leather trousers!"  
Emily and Elizabeth let that image float in the air....Elizabeth imagined the taut, muscular thigh she had bandaged encased in supple, black leather; add to that him wielding a sword and she had to physically shake away the image.

They returned to the house in time for luncheon. Captain Dolokhov had sent apologies for his absence.  
Following the meal the brigadier asked Booth to summon the Russian to the library. Dolokhov appeared, looking as composed and controlled as was possible.  
The brigadier ushered him to sit down and sat himself at his desk, after bringing across 2 glasses of brandy.  
"Now then, Captain," began the brigadier in French, "My daughter has of course made me aware of your letter and it's very sad news. May I offer my most sincere condolences on the death of your mother."  
"Thank you sir," replied Dolokhov, sipping his brandy and realising that on an empty stomach it might not be such a good idea; but would help to numb the pain in his chest.  
"So, you have to return to Russia and organise her funeral," continued Elizabeth's father and waved away Dolokhov's protests.  
"Now, now, don't be ridiculous about money Captain....out on the battlefield you would choose the best option and select any help when offered, so I won't hear anything of it. So, you will take this," and he offered across a bundle of bank notes, "and you'll leave tomorrow morning. You'll pay your respects to your mother and arrange her funeral.....no chap should have to ever make that choice."  
Dolokhov made a stifled sob and bit his lip in order to regain a semblance of control. The brigadier sucked down his brandy.  
"Sir.....I do not know how I can ever repay you for this," Dolokhov finally managed to utter.  
The brigadier regarded the young captain kindly, "You will find a way....if you're as clever and opportunistic as I believe you to be.....but you'll note that there isn't enough there for your return journey to England," and he gave a twinkling gaze as he continued, "So.....if you want my daughter's hand in the future....you'll have to do something worthy and find a way back to her....won't you?" and he slapped the Russian on the shoulder before walking in the direction of the conservatory.

Dolokhov remained in the sanctuary of the library, considering the discussion which had taken place. Under normal circumstances he would not have accepted such a huge amount of money from a relative stranger....but the brigadier had made his case in a calm and measured tone; very practical and playing to military strengths; and he was correct - in battle Dolokhov would have accepted any support or help offered if it meant winning the campaign.  
But the comment about Elizabeth had quite floored him....had Elizabeth mentioned to her father that she had feelings for him? Presumably the brigadier's comment also meant that he wasn't against the concept of him as a son-in-law....at least in theory!


	18. I can't be this close to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dolokhov and Elizabeth avoid Helena Corden using a secret hideaway.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Athos fans out there - this is heavily inspired by a Milathos kiss (Season 2, Episode 9!!)  
> It is quite saucy.....LulaIsAKitten; I hope I've done it justice; please enjoy ;)

Elizabeth caught her father's gaze as he entered the lushness of the conservatory. He flashed her a broad grin and the special wink he reserved only for his daughter; the wink which told her, 'it's fine, your father has sorted it all out.'  
She noticed that there was still movement in the library and assumed Captain Dolokhov remained there. She didn't necessarily wish to intrude; but on the other hand, she needed some writing materials which were located in there........plus she wanted to see him!

Dolokhov paced in the library, holding the bundle of bank notes in his hands, almost unbelieving that someone could offer this much kindness towards him when they knew so little of him. He feared that he had not shown enough gratitude towards the brigadier and considered whether he should construct a note expressing himself more fully, so he sat at the desk, his chin clasped between his splayed hand as he tried to decide on how best to address the brigadier.  
This is how Elizabeth found him when she entered the room. He immediately smiled at her and she noticed a slight hitch to his breathing which made her feel a little giddy. His face still showed the symptoms of prior tears, but his hooded eyes showed warmth towards her.  
She smiled weakly at him; it felt somewhat inappropriate to show great joy when she was aware he had just learned of his mother's death; but she was grateful that he had taken her intrusion in the right manner; and that her father had obviously dealt with the situation to everyone's satisfaction.

"I am writing to your father....I don't feel that I have adequately thanked him for his kindness," he stated, "Although, I suppose that I should also profess my gratitude towards you too Miss Middleton."  
Elizabeth felt a blush rising to her cheeks and tried to focus on the spines of the books on the shelf nearby rather than return his penetrating gaze.  
She was aware that he had risen from the desk and was advancing towards her and she was also aware that her breathing was becoming more ragged as he loomed behind her.  
"Miss Middleton; or may I call you Elizabeth?" he almost whispered the second statement, "I cannot fully express my gratitude towards you, both for your kindness towards me earlier, and also for involving your father so delicately."  
She could feel his warm breath against the bare skin of her shoulders and she desperately tried to control her emotions. Every fibre of her being wanted to turn towards him and cling to his broad shoulders.  
The moment was interrupted by the shrill voice of Helena Corden, "Captain?..........Captain Dolokhov.......you said you would take a turn around the grounds with me before dinner...."  
Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from gritting her teeth and uttering, "That damn woman!" Dolokhov understood the word 'damn' and also understood that it wasn't a word often used by ladies....it made him smile and adore her even more.  
She noted his expression and he exaggerated dismay, causing her to nod and move swiftly across the room. She clasped what looked like a candle holder on the bookshelf, opening a secret doorway to a priest hole.  
"In here, quickly," she urged; intending for Dolokhov alone to go inside, but as he passed her she felt his arms steal around her waist and drag her inside after him. Elizabeth was so startled that she made no noise or attempt to escape, plus she knew that the General's wife be upon them if she wasn't quick.

Once the doorway was closed behind them there was no way of anyone detecting them there, providing they made no noise of movement.  
Dolokhov was incredibly aware of how close he was to Elizabeth. He had been imagining a corridor lay behind the door, when in actual fact they were pressed almost body to body in a small, dusty alcove. He noted that his arms were still around her waist, his hands crossed on themselves resting on her belly.  
A tiny sliver of light illuminated a portion of her face and he could feel her almost quivering in front of him.  
Elizabeth was incredibly aware of how close she was to Dolokhov. His strong arms had propelled her into the small space and she was almost giddy with the realisation that they had remained around her. The warmth of his hand resting just below her breast was intoxicating, and the feeling of his body pressed behind her in the enclosed space was causing her to momentarily forget how to breathe.  
Through the tiny crack between the books she was able to see that Helena Corden had floated into the library and was glancing around, behind the drapes, clearing checking whether he was hiding from her. Elizabeth stifled a snigger at the thought of her desperation for the man who she was currently sharing the same air as.  
Dolokhov, at a slightly higher height could also see the image of Mrs Corden searching for him; he also felt and heard a small snigger emanating from Elizabeth and rapidly moved one of his hands from where it lay to cover her mouth.  
Elizabeth's eyes widened and she completely forgot how to breath when she felt the Captain's firm but gentle fingers cover her mouth and lips. Instinctively she turned her head slightly and she met his gaze, noting how his eyes found hers and his lips formed a silent 'shhh'. He removed his fingers slowly, dragging his index finger against her bottom lip as his eyes never left hers.  
Their bodies and faces were now in an achingly familiar position to the previous evening outside her bedroom door; however this time they both knew that they would be forced apart in the morning - possibly forever.  
Helena Corden was still wafting about the room, now sliding her hands across the various book spines; presumably searching for something different to interest her other than the Captain!  
Dolokhov felt a stirring in his trousers and flexed his hand against the slenderness of her belly, stifling a groan deep within his chest which Elizabeth felt as a reverberating rumble through her bones. He realised that her lips had fallen apart and he could feel her hot breath against his cheek.  
Finally the General's wife left the library, empty handed.  
In a split second the captain pulled her around to face him fully and almost growled, "Forgive me," as his mouth covered her own in a kiss which would have sucked the breath from her lungs if she had had any remaining.  
His lips moved purposefully and with intent causing Elizabeth's hands to come up to his chest to steady herself as she returned his embrace with equal passion and fervour.  
Dolokhov found her hunger for him erotic beyond belief and he parted his lips, welcoming that she followed suit with her own. He dipped his tongue inside her mouth and swirled it against hers.  
Elizabeth was almost delirious with the sensation from his lips on hers; his moustache felt soft, but undeniably masculine and he used his tongue to expertly explore her mouth. She knew that she was whimpering into him as she felt his hands slide around her back to press her body against his own. She noticed firmness; how much of her body he appeared able to grasp in one of his hands and she felt her hands drawn up to the hair at the nape of his neck.  
The feel of her body in his arms was stirring a deep passion within him, which must surely be evident to her as he splayed his strong hands against her back and shoulders; and the feel of her fingers running through his hair caused him to sob slightly into her mouth.  
Elizabeth caught a hitch in his breathing and responded by sliding her tongue against his as their kiss deepened and she felt herself growing wet and hot between her legs.  
One of his hands had now found the back of her neck and she sank back against it, in order to replenish her oxygen supply if nothing else as she briefly pulled her mouth away from his. Dolokhov's lips however continued to explore her neck in breathless, bruising intent and he struggled to hold back his ardour as he felt her fingers claw at his shoulders and upper arms.  
His tongue found the soft mounds of creamy flesh pressed against her gown and he allowed himself to devour her warm, salty skin, urged on by her fingers raking through his curls and grasping at his chest; grazing the flesh beneath his shirt through the deep slit of fabric which was usually kept in check by a single button and his cravat.  
He dragged his face away from her skin long enough to meet her gaze; his own eyes were dark with passionate intent; hers he noted were glassy with desire.  
Elizabeth didn't want the feelings running through her body to ever end; and she longed to feel his hot mouth on hers again. She could feel his stiff cock through his trousers pressing against her mound and belly and had just about enough clarity of thought to recognise that it was significantly larger than anything depicted on the statues in the gallery at Middleton Hall!  
He held her head in his hands and kissed her again; this time more languidly, allowing his lips to graze her upper lip, then sucked on her lower lip, teasing her with the tip of his tongue and laughing gently as she smiled against his mouth.  
He slid his firm thigh between her legs and groaned at her reaction.  
Elizabeth felt an immediate relief as she ground herself against his thigh and sobbed her ecstasy into his mouth as he delved his tongue back inside her mouth, a signal of his true desire and ultimate intent.  
His strong arms supported her as she rocked her centre pleasurably against him, when her head fell back he renewed his attention to her décolletage and used his teeth gently to locate her nipples beneath the fabric of her gown. He gloried in turning them to hard pearls and when he looked up at Elizabeth and saw her neck extended and mouth open in a silent shout of release he felt a sharp tightening and a release of his own within his braies.  
He held her, panting, moving his leg back to steady himself and eventually she found her voice.  
"There's nothing to forgive," she smiled before releasing the hidden catch on the secret door and walked a little unsteadily through the library and into the hallway. He watched her, considering how he was going to be able to walk away from her tomorrow.  
She was the greatest passion of his life. His lips already missed her.


	19. Interferring mothers......thankfully!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is Dolokhov and Elizabeth's final evening together in Middleton Hall. In the morning he will leave for Russia and they may never see each other again....Elizabeth is unaware that her father has basically told Dolokhov that if he can find a way back to her one day, he is happy for Dolokhov to ask for her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit more sauciness.....you must bear in mind that Elizabeth is NOT a slut....she's just gagging for it and Dolokhov is just too damn hot!!!!!

The rest of the afternoon passed in a whirl of emotions and sensations. For Elizabeth she was filled with the oddest sensation - rather like she wanted to urinate all of the time.....but in the nicest possible way! She pondered the sensation as she giggled, reliving the feeling of Captain Dolokhov's soft, bristling facial hair on her cheeks, chest and goodness knows where else. She did a significant amount of sighing and staring into space, and re read the same page in Sappho at least fifteen times.  
Dolokhov was also reliving the events in the priest hole; his lips twitched with the memory of her soft, urgent lips on his.....she kissed him back fervently; truly filled with passion. Her father had as good as said that he could ask her....had she told her father that she liked him? He felt a little stab of excitement in his belly as well as his groin at the thought that she could have been truly admiring him - not simply looking for 'sex' like the Helena Corden's of this world.   
He'd only ever had true feelings for one woman before; and even those were only burgeoning and never became fully realised....Sonia ad decided against him when he had asked, and he had found it relatively easy to put her out of his mind after the initial shock of rejection had passed.  
Elizabeth was different though. He wanted so desperately to be with her.....but he didn't think that he could cope with one night alone. The kiss they had shared was the promise of much more to come, but he wasn't sure he could live without her if they were to share any more.

Both had needed to change their clothing....Dolokhov took the opportunity to request a bath, and unbeknown to him Elizabeth had done likewise; so there was quite an unseen flurry of servants with hot water dashing around before dinner.

Elizabeth had already selected a gown to wear - a beautiful, dusky rose coloured silk, but following the events that afternoon decided to throw caution to the wind and asked Brown, her maid to fetch one she had only worn in London before; it was red; crimson red in actual fact and had jet beadwork across the bodice and overskirt.  
After dressing her hair she added a red rose, still in bud, from the display in her room and felt very happy with her reflection.

Her appearance at the bottom of the stairs drew gasps from several, and her mother noticed the slight, but definite glance towards Captain Dolokhov, and the almost obscene look in his eyes when saw her fully. She raised her brows and silently considered, she could do much worse! Plus, there was a definite 'glow' to her daughter.....was she in love? Mrs Middleton made a quick diversion into the dining room and appeared a moment later, smiling a secret smile to herself.  
Freddie Ayeclyffe was the first to greet her, and she dutifully accompanied him as he fetched her a glass of sherry and fretted over the position of the sun as it sunk in the sky. She asked about his day and allowed him to prattle on about the deer he had stalked and almost caught, blaming Lord Croft for startling it!  
Dolokhov kept glancing across at her - in truth he was having difficulty keeping his eyes off her, she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her look, but also had a glorious sensuality behind her eyes, especially when they found his across the room and it was all he could do not to walk over to her and bend her back in a violent and heady embrace.  
He did however have the forethought to notice Booth approach the gong and moved closer to her so that he could offer her his arm to go into dinner,  
"May I have the pleasure?" he rumbled, and Elizabeth's knees almost buckled with the evident double meaning. Instead she swallowed hard and slid her hand between his arm and chest, 'accidentally' grazing her fingers against his firm torso, and suppressing a smile at the subsequent hitch to his breathing and slight cough.  
When her hand rested on his forearm she noticed that he clasped his arm closer to his body, pressing against her. She allowed her middle finger to lazily stroke the skin at his wrist and wished desperately for an opportunity to steal another kiss from his deliciously passionate and uneven lips.  
Elizabeth took the same seat as on previous evenings, but noticed that Booth was holding the seat next to her for the Captain. They both noticed that the place names and napkins for Mr Featherstone and Captain Dolokhov appeared to have been moved.....he would sit next to her rather than opposite her on the wide table.  
Elizabeth caught the amused and satisfied glance of her mother as she arranged herself and felt a warm hand on her thigh, below the tablecloth.  
She didn't make any visual acknowledgement but instead, turned and looked directly at the sensual eyes of the Russian beside her, and in a clear voice asked,  
"Have you had a pleasant afternoon Captain? I trust you found something to amuse yourself!"  
He smirked and she thought she caught the very briefest blush creeping to his cheeks as he answered,  
"I spent a very pleasing afternoon with your father, then I amused myself in the library."  
Helena Corden's ears pricked up further down the table, "Oh....I looked for you in there but couldn't see hide nor hair of you, you bad man!"  
The hand on her thigh gripped tightly and she felt his body quivering with the effort of preventing laughter escaping; making her own efforts not to laugh all the more difficult....she eventually resorted to flicking a butter knife onto the floor in order to dip her head below the table line and relax her cheeks and gather herself.  
"Do you require any assistance Miss Middleton?" she heard Dolokhov stammer, before his face appeared tantalisingly close to her own, biting his lips to refrain from laughing.  
"Elizabeth? What on earth is going on?" her father queried from his position at the far end of the long table.  
She popped back up, looking composed and calm, "Just a butter knife papa," then squeaked as Captain Dolokov returned to his seat, not before grazing his hand up her calf.  
The meal was eaten with the correct amount of discussion on each side of the duo, although it was evident that their own discussions where more animated and interesting than when they turned their attentions to their neighbours.   
Port and cigars followed with the ladies remaining in the dining room with the men, as was customary at Middleton Hall and then everyone began to drift through to the salon for cards, piano recitals and in the case of the brigadier, the general and Dolokhov, a lengthy and for their part highly thought provoking discussion about various tactical strategies employed during major historical battles. Elizabeth noted that her father listened attentively to what Dolokhov said and appeared to agree with much of it.....he liked him, and her father wouldn't mind a jot about him past; not if his Bethie liked him!  
Elizabeth joined a game of whist, and won; then accompanied Clara, at the request of Emily's brother into the conservatory. She flashed excited eyes towards Emily as they left; it was clear he was going to ask her and wished for a proper level of chaperoning.  
Elizabeth seated Clara with George before loudly proclaiming that she had seen some flowering cala lilies earlier and wished to see if there were any worth picking. She wandered a little way away from them and 'busied herself' with the foliage, all the while keeping her ears pricked for details to regale Emily with at a later date.  
In the end, he dropped to his knee and asked her in the most simple and heart warming manner; stating that she brightened his world and that he would spend his life trying to make her as happy as she made him. Clara accepted and they shared a rather chaste, but beautiful kiss.   
Elizabeth feigned ignorance and allowed them to 'share their news' before she escorted them back into the salon and hushed the scene so that George could tell everyone the news.  
The brigadier sent for champagne to celebrate and everyone toasted the happy pair, echoing the toast proffered by Elizabeth's father, "To new love....may it last and grow into an older and stronger love."  
As she raised her glass she found his eyes, waiting for hers and wondered how their own passion could ever grow into the same...he was leaving, and in a few short hours.

Later, as she mounted the stairs she was aware of him following; he waited at the bottom of the staircase until she had reached the top step. She turned to look at him and her eyes begged him to come to her. He followed at an appropriate and calm pace, but turned towards her rooms rather than his own. She was waiting outside her door for him.  
"So, you are leaving tomorrow," she said, sadly. "I am so sorry about your mother," she added.  
He breathed deeply, "I am sorry about it too, but even more sorry to be leaving you, Miss Middleton."  
Elizabeth wished she was a man, she wished she could throw herself at him as she so desperately wished to, but instead she focussed on the buttons on his waistcoat and noticed the pattern on the peacock blue satin.  
"Your father has given me a glimmer of hope in all of this desperateness, he seems to think that you look favourably on me.....although I cannot think why a lady of your character would consider someone like me...." he drifted off, clenching his fist and tapping it against the door frame.  
Elizabeth raised her eyes to his and noticed how forlorn and deflated they looked, "As I have said previously, sir, if you would know me, truly, then you would know the answer to that......and I would like you to know me......to truly know me," she almost whispered.  
He glanced to ensure privacy before he dipped his head and captured her lips in a beautiful, sweet and lingering kiss.   
"I adore you, Elizabeth......but I cannot live with just a memory of you, not for one night," he murmured into her ear, panting heavily at his restraint and longing.  
Elizabeth felt her hand on the door knob behind her and turned it as she breathed against his lips, "...and yet I sir, I cannot live without you for one night," and she backed into her room, purposefully making no attempt to close the door.  
He closed it, but once he had followed her inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be sexy times in the next chapter!


	20. Let me worship you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dolokhov has followed Elizabeth to her room - they will be parted in the morning and Elizabeth has made her wishes clear....Dolokhov however sees her differently to any woman he has ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is saucy......but please keep telling yourself, Elizabeth is NOT a slut.....she's just horny and he's HOT!

Dolokhov clicked the door shut behind him and waited for Elizabeth to turn to him; he needed her approval and agreement to him being there; although she had been the one to leave her door open.  
Elizabeth's heart was pounding in her chest so loudly she was convinced he would be able to hear it.....she hadn't completely thought this through; her plan earlier had been to find an opportunity to be alone with him and kiss him again; but now that he was standing in her bedroom with her Elizabeth's thoughts had become significantly more 'worldly'. She wanted to see his body, wanted to share hers with him and didn't care that she might never see him again. If after tonight she was resigned to a marriage with someone like Freddie then she could submit knowing that she had tasted ecstasy.

Dolokhov saw her eyes burning into his own with desire; she wasn't faltering or having second thoughts, and as he moved towards her she took several small steps to meet him, her hands immediately finding his hair and dragging his mouth to her own in a searing kiss full of passion, longing and breathlessness.  
His hands slid around her waist and pressed her supple body to his; his fingertips found the bare skin above the bodice of her gown and their touch on her was like fire.  
Their kiss was intense, their tongues sliding against each other's and finding a mesmeric rhythm punctuated with breathy moans and gasps from them both in turn.  
Elizabeth's hands tugged at his coat and pushed it from his shoulders; she enjoyed the firmness of his torso beneath her hands as she slid them against him under the smooth fabric.  
He growled and loosened the cream coloured cravat at his neck and rapidly removed his waistcoat, tossing it carelessly across the room; careful to only leave her lips waiting for a fraction of a second before they were back in their almost bruising conquest of her own.  
He brought his hands around her sides and up to the front of her torso, gently but firmly cupping the weight of her soft breasts. He sighed as he brushed his thumbs across her nipples and Elizabeth shuddered slightly at the sensation of feeling her nipples harden under his touch. He paused and looked carefully at her; he wasn't sure whether the quivering he'd felt was due to excitement or uncertainty; but she placed her hand over his and whispered sensually just below his ear the word "More."  
Her warm breath found one of his most sensitive spots and he groaned as he began to massage her breasts, covering her neck and the smooth skin of her shoulders with his mouth in a series of tantalising licks and sucks.  
Elizabeth felt like she was on fire between her legs and could feel a moistness there as the captain's strong, experienced hands rolled her hard nipples with the perfect amount of pressure to cause her to gasp and claw at his back. He found a spot where her neck and shoulder met and bit down gently, causing a small whimper of delight to emanate from Elizabeth and allowed one of his hands to dip down below the crimson fabric, finding her tender, pinched nipple. His other hand was splayed against her lower back, his fingers gripping her arse and pushing her against his hardness.  
Elizabeth had thought his fingers above her gown had felt wonderful, but the touch of his fingers on her bare skin was another level, and she was very aware of his erection pressing hard against her stomach. She wanted his hands upon her skin and she desperately wanted to see him, to see all of him.  
She grabbed at the fabric of his shirt, pulling it free from the waist of his trousers and moved the hand at her back up to locate the small buttons which served as fasteners.  
Dolokhov was an expert at ladies clothing and managed to unfasten all 8 rounded buttons with one hand whilst the other continued it's ministrations at her breast.  
It was Elizabeth who broke away. She saw the briefest look of frustration on Dolokhov's face, which was quickly replaced by awe as she shrugged off the crimson fabric to reveal her cotton chemise and stays below it, the neckline of both barely covering her nipples.   
"Let me see you," she whispered as she walked around him, trailing her hand across his body, allowing it to dip down to his buttocks and brushing against his cock as she reached the front of him. He inhaled sharply and dragged his shirt over his head to reveal his muscular chest covered with dark hair. Elizabeth sobbed slightly; he was just so incredibly masculine.  
She repeated her trailing hand investigation of his skin, moving to behind him, spreading her hands across the broadness of his back and shoulders before sweeping her arms around to his chest, pressing herself against him and feeling him drop his head backwards.  
"Let me see you," he whispered in his gravelly baritone, from her position she could feel the sound vibrate through his chest and into her own body.  
Elizabeth took a ragged breath and peeled herself away from him, she unfastened her stays and discarded them and stood in front of him in just her chemise with her stockings below it. He was looking into her eyes with a powerful intent, and it was taking all his self control to remain stood rooted to the spot rather than throw her to the bed and fill her.  
She met his gaze and untied the small bows at either shoulder, allowing the garment to puddle to the floor. She let out a slight gasp as Dolokhov's gaze raked over her body, pausing to allow the tip of his tongue to moisten his lips, especially at the sight of her erect nipples standing proudly at the tip of her breasts and the triangle of dark hair between her legs.  
He was paralysed. He wanted to do everything to her, but he wasn't sure he could cope with life if she wasn't in it....and in the morning she wouldn't be.  
"Let me worship you," he breathed, moving towards her and lifting her effortlessly in his arms. He kissed her, paying attention to each of her lips in turn and placed her gently on the bed, removing the rose bud and pins from her hair to arrange it on the pillow.  
Elizabeth felt as close to paradise as she thought possible and he'd hardly touched her.  
She smiled up at the dark, sensual eyes of the captain who had removed his boots and was resting on his elbow next to her.  
"May I touch you?" he mouthed against her lips, his hand gently caressing her flat belly as she smiled back at him and moaned; his touch made her toes tingle.  
Dolokhov was on fire inside; he had seduced so many women; but with Elizabeth he himself had been the one seduced....now he wanted to know every inch of her body; he wanted to taste her, find what aroused her and know that it was him responsible for her joy. He began by slowing licking and nibbling his way from her neck down to her belly button, his hands moved down her legs and he noticed her squeezing them together as her hips undulated slightly. He resumed pressing his lips to her face, cheeks, neck and lips then brought his mouth down to engulf one of her taut nipples, sucking on it rapturously, feeling like he was floating on a cloud as she arched her back up meet his mouth. The sensation of his hot mouth was heightened by the soft stubble of his facial hair, and when he began to squeeze and pinch her other breast in his hand whilst lapping at the other she made a deep moan and bent one of her legs allowing him to move his semi naked body between them .  
He moved his mouth to her other nipple and sucked on it hard, enjoying the responses of her body to his touches as she raked her hands through his hair, fisting handfuls of it.  
"I need to taste you," he growled and Elizabeth smiled, parting her lips; expecting to feel his mouth on hers once more, but instead he moved himself down the bed and looked up at her eyes with pure sexual intent visible in them. His hands slid around to cup her peach like buttocks and he blew gently against her sensitive folds, taking delight in the glistening stickiness he found there.   
Elizabeth was lost in surrender to him but wanted to see him, she was as delighted in watching his enjoyment as she was in experiencing the sensation of his body on hers. She raised her head up to see him almost snarl and lick firmly along her slit, engulfing her mound with his mouth and teasing his tongue around to locate her small bud. When he flicked his tongue across it she felt like she might scream....or piss, (...please God don't let me piss in front of him, she silently thought) but after several more, varied licks, sucks and gentle nibbles she had grown to enjoy the feeling and once more dragged her hands through his dark curls.  
He was groaning and enjoying her sweet muskiness. It was heaven to be between her legs, bringing her to rapture with his mouth. He knew that he had the skill to bring her to a mind blowing orgasm, but was more taken aback by the fact that he was almost coming himself; and every twitch, moan and clasp of her nails into his skin was taking him closer to the edge of release.  
He suddenly had a desperate urge to be naked next to her; she had shown him her body and he wanted to do the same.  
Ceasing his oral onslaught on her caused Elizabeth to whimper in frustration; but he replaced his tongue with his fingers and slid them deliciously up and down her center, spreading her juices around her entrance as he dealt with the fastenings on his trousers and braies so that he was able to remove both together with a little help from Elizabeth.  
She looked at his naked body with awe and desire. He was so muscular, it almost looked like muscle was trying to break free from the confines of his skin, and his cock was stiff, leaking and standing proudly away from his body. Elizabeth had read many descriptions of sexual congress and had seen a significant number of illustrations as well as statues, but Captain Dolokhov's body was very real, and beautiful, and so close to her, she could reach out and touch it....and she did. Her fingers dragged down his chest, grazing his small, hard, burgundy nipples; causing his length to twitch and Elizabeth to smile. She continued her finger tip path past the small indentation of his navel and ventured lower into the dark, curled hair around the base of his thick shaft.  
Dolokhov's eyes were closed, his lids fluttering and his breath ragged as he reigned in his response to her slender, tentative fingers. He realised that he had lost concentration on his own finger tip investigation of her and allowed himself to renew his work by firmly pressing one of his fingers inside her. He felt her instantly tense and he paused to get her used to the intrusion, then slightly withdrew and replaced his digit, this time causing her to pant softly and resume her exploration of his body by cupping the soft skin of his sack and enjoying the weight of him and the hitch to his breathing.  
He was above her, his finger creating a rhythm within her, his lips found her mouth and replicated the same rhythm with his tongue. She responded by sucking on his mouth, using her teeth against his lips and began to grind against the delight in her cunt. He smiled against her mouth and felt her respond so pressed a second strong, broad finger inside her.  
Elizabeth arched her body backwards and almost screamed in ecstasy as he somehow managed to find a part within her soft walls that sent her directly to either heaven or hell - she wasn't sure, and she didn't care.  
"Captain....." she sobbed into his shoulder as she clung to him, begging for his mercy to deliver her through this overwhelming feeling.   
"Use my name....say my name," he begged back, aware that he was close to erupting despite the fact that her hands were now gripping his forearms and nowhere near his throbbing girth.  
When Elizabeth managed to breathe out the phrase, "Fedya.......please," it was almost his undoing, but he was determined to focus himself on her pleasure.   
Dipping his mouth to suck on her breast he continued pulsing his fingers within her and rotated his palm to press down against her mound.  
Her second gasped "Fed....ya," coincided with the climax of her orgasm and his own release of hot, fluid across the bed.   
He captured her mouth again in a breathless kiss, Elizabeth was seeing stars, but laughed as his moustache suddenly seemed prickly against her skin.  
He was rolled onto his stomach next to her and as her breathing became more normal she rolled over to revel in the sight of his naked buttocks, which she noticed were smooth and not covered in dark hairs like most of the rest of his body.  
He was lazily smiling at her , obviously not self conscious about his nakedness; but he was intrigued by her lack of embarrassment.  
He pushed himself onto his elbow, allowing his other hand to trace a random, intricate pattern on her porcelain belly.  
"In a few hours....." he began, but Elizabeth pressed her fingers to his lips,  
"Let's not talk of that; in fact, let's not talk at all," and she pulled herself up to him, wrapping her body around his and nestling her face adjacent to his, stroking his wayward hair gently until they both fell asleep.

Dolokhov dreamed of the woman in his arms calling his name and knew that it would have to sustain him....possibly forever.


	21. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following their passionate night together Dolokhov returns to Russia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to get Dolokhov home to Russia - I have no idea regarding the actual route chosen, but it seems logical at least if not necessarily accurate!

Dolokhov woke with the dawn light filtering through Elizabeth's drapes.   
She was curled into his side, her cheek resting against his chest and his arms were engulfing her naked body.  
The scent of her hair invaded his nostrils and he sighed as he shifted his body to draw her even closer to his skin.  
Would she want him to wake her, or would she prefer him to leave without further mention of the previous night.....surely the only reason she had shown so little regard for her own reputation and propriety was that he was leaving her today?  
His dilemma was solved however when Elizabeth stirred and opened her eyes, smiling against the firm, undeniably masculine body and musky scent of Dolokhov beneath her fingers and cheek. She felt his hands flex against her skin, drawing her closer into him and felt him exhaled deeply against her hair.  
"I should leave before others start to wake," he whispered.  
Elizabeth nodded, not quite trusting her voice to remain steady.  
He raised her chin with the tips of his fingers and kissed her; so sweetly; so delicately and yet with so much intent It was as if he was trying to imprint the shape and feel of her lips on his.   
He pulled away from her and allowed his eyes to stare into her own; a wordless declaration of everything he wished they could become.  
"Я стану достойным тебя, милая," he whispered, cradling her face in his hands and punctuating his deep Russian statement with soft kisses across her eyes, lips and finally, her heart.   
She watched him dress, trying to take a sequence of images in her mind to draw upon in the lonely future without him in it, but she tried not to let her sadness show - there was no reason to make him feel guilty for his mother dying.  
When he was finished, and smartly attired once more she moved to leave the bed, but he carefully eased her back onto the bed. He wordlessly arranged her naked body, with her hair draped across the pillow, curling tendrils against her shoulders. He tenderly lifted her foot and kissed the inside of her ankle, moving his firm hands up her smooth calf. His lips then found the crease of her skin where her thighs met her hip bone. He allowed his tongue to slide along the solid bone and he bit down gently. Using his arms either side of her he kissed around her belly button as lightly as a butterfly, then licked the peachy soft skin of her breasts. He opened his mouth wide and absorbed as much of the mound into it as he could; groaning as he swirled his tongue around her soft, but instantly hardening nipple. Too quickly he ceased his attention to her and his lips found the soft skin of her neck, trailing feather light kisses up towards her earlobe, which he sucked on gently.   
His tiny, tender kisses continued across her face, his tongue caressing her closed eye lids, tasting the salty tears she was trying so hard to avoid shedding.  
He drew his face away from hers, and she captured it between her slender hands, allowing them to curl into his untamed hair as their eyes remained locked.  
He felt her hands release him slightly, and he left her.

There was no point in crying she thought.....so why were her cheeks covered in tears?

Dolokhov left less than an hour later, before the main house was awake. Brigadier Middleton had been generous enough to lend him the use of his own carriage to take him to Newcastle where he would board a ship to Norway. It would be a long and gruelling crossing - each wave taking him further away from the woman he now knew he loved. However, he would be able to do right by his beloved mother.  
He was pensive and thoughtful during the journey. He wondered whether any of his old 'friends' in Russia would be as kind and generous as the Middletons had been.

Elizabeth had fallen back to sleep and when she finally awoke it really was morning, and she got up prepared to tackle the first of many days to come.....lonely days, without him in them.

This new normality continued after their house guests had left - several comments were thrown around regarding the abrupt departure of Captain Dolokhov, but once it became known that his mother had died the scorn ceased. Elizabeth was offered the opportunity to return to London with Emily and George, but she declined on this occasion and remained at home with her parents and few visitors.   
Christmas came and went and Elizabeth went about her daily routine; although her mother and father noticed a somewhat lifeless quality to their daughter's eyes and it naturally concerned them.  
She received an invitation to George and Clara's wedding, swiftly followed by notification that Emily was engaged to be married to Lord Croft of all people.  
The sadness behind Elizabeth's eyes continued as she made preparations to leave for London along with her parents. The Brigadier had suggested that they all go and spend some time in Belmont House, their other home in Lewes. Elizabeth agreed, but with little enthusiasm; however a change of scenery would be nice, and she enjoyed the seaside air.

The wedding of George and Clara was beautiful and filled with romance. Their tender looks were so loving and sweet; it was impossible not to get swept away with the mood, and for one evening even Elizabeth became brighter; although she couldn't help but imagine that the arms of Arthur Stafford around her, dancing were instead those of a certain Fedya Dolokhov; despite the fact that he had not sent her any word.

The Middletons moved down to Lewes and spent several months there whilst Emily prepared for her marriage to Lord Croft. She often sent word to Elizabeth about the plans, and it was easy to become distracted by the descriptions and quandaries facing Emily as she prepared to become Lady Croft.  
Elizabeth spent a great deal of time walking, reading (she had started to learn Russian.....although it made her feel somewhat foolish and had not admitted this to her father) and she had begun to develop more of her interest in medicine by offering assistance to a gentleman called Edwin Chadwick whom she had met quite by accident and was doing; in her opinion; incredibly interesting work on the link between poverty and illness.  
She often wondered how Dolokhov was passing his time. She had heard nothing from him and had begun to conclude that se really would never see him again.

She attended Emily's wedding - a lavish affair as befitting her new position as Lady Croft and waved them off on a honeymoon to Paris.  
Freddie Ayeclyffe had been his usual attentive self and she considered that he was one of the few of their 'set' now unmarried.  
______________________  
Dolokhov had spent the year since he left Elizabeth dealing with his mother's funeral - it had been painful to see her corpse, but he was grateful for the opportunity to at least see her and touch the lace of the clothing which would forever enrobe her.  
He had argued with his sister about the future - she had wanted to remain in their small apartment in Russia; he wanted to leave - the country seemed on the verge of breaking apart and he saw little to remain there for.  
He re-aquainted himself with his old friend Pierre Bezukhov, now married to Natasha Rostova. Over a private drink, following an abundant meal they talked about their lives and Dolokhov explained about Elizabeth. Pierre noted the distinct change in his friend's usual persona when he spoke of her.  
"You love her!" he smiled, almost accusingly, "Admit it Dolokhov....you're in love!"  
Dolokhov didn't attempt to argue, but his gaze dropped, "I'll never see her again....but yes....I love her more than I ever thought it was possible." He finished his vodka and went to his bed; his thoughts consumed by her, as they always were each night.


	22. I'm willing to do this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we discover what Dolokhov has been doing in his absence from Elizabeth

After staying with Bezukhov for a month he returned to Moscow, to his small, meagre apartment and his sister. They had managed to exist on a minimal amount of money, but with the temperature plunging below zero he knew that he would have to find a way of earning some money to support them both. His sister's unfortunate health meant that she could not perform any function other than to try to maintain a semblance of comfort in their small rooms.  
He dressed in his full military uniform and made his way to the club he used to frequent with his old friend, Anatole....good memories, but a different time.  
Upon entering he was greeted warmly by several who remembered him; he was handed a drink and ushered into the main hall which in previous days had been the scene of many an exuberant sword fight. However, the entire place now seemed to be filled with various well dressed Russians massing around, talking and drinking.   
He was introduced to a group and he joined in the discussions as best he could. He'd been hoping to locate a card table and swindle some rich buffoon out of a fortune, but free drink and company would have to suffice.  
Later in the evening he felt a slender, feminine hand grasp his left buttock. It lingered and began to caress the firm muscles beneath the tight, cream fabric of his breeches. Dolokhov shifted slightly in order to try to ascertain the owner of the hand which was persisting in it's exploration of his backside.  
Directly behind him stood a tall, elegantly dressed woman wearing ostrich feathers in her hair and carrying a fan. She was holding court within her group, her French was flawless and she had the kind of bone structure which shrieked breeding.  
One of Dolokhov's group noticed her and began to fawn profusely until she turned and accepted his outstretched hand.   
"My dearest Comtesse; you are looking remarkably fine this evening. Allow me to introduce my dear friend Captain Dolokhov; I think you are acquainted with everyone else," he stated.  
The Comtesse held out her hand, which Dolokhov accepted and raised to his lips.  
Her eyes drilled into his and he recognised the look with a rueful smoulder.  
They engaged in conversation and he discovered that she was married to a French Count and lived in Paris.   
She discovered that he was charming, as virile and sexually attractive as humanly possible....and she had found her newest pet!

Dolokhov left the party and as he settled down to sleep on the small mattress which had previously been his mothers' bed he made a small, but painful realisation - his most valuable skill was his attractiveness to women; especially aristocratic and rich women who fancied a tumble with a bit of rough. He wasn't proud of it, but it may be a way to get back to England. He silently asked himself and decided, 'I am willing to do this'.......it wasn't the perfect way to make his fortune, but he had to work with what he had!

The following day when he attended the club he found a note awaiting him, from the Comtesse, requesting his attendance at her lodgings.   
He attended and before he left had fucked her on her chaise and been rewarded with an invitation to accompany her to Paris upon her and the Comte's return the following week.  
Upon moving to Paris with the Comtesse he became her toy; and on many, painful occasions which he tried to blank from his mind was also used by her husband for his amusement. He was a man who liked to be brutal and he enjoyed belittling and abusing Dolokhov for his amusement, and Dolokhov bore scars to prove it.  
Throughout it all Dolokhov played a part and squirreled away the money and gifts thrown at him for his 'services'.  
He regularly counted out the various piles he kept - enough to repay Brigadier Middleton, enough to pay for his sister's keep, enough to buy a passage for them both to England........he would do this as long as it took for him to earn enough. And not one penny more.

Now, he was accompanying her to yet another gathering; it was common knowledge and widely accepted that he was the latest in her long line of lovers.  
A familiar face and voice however captured his interest - Lord Croft was across the room, accompanied by an auburn haired woman who looked vaguely familiar to him.  
Alistair saw him and rushed to embrace his old friend, "Do you remember Emily Fitzallen as was....she is now Lady Croft; we're here on honeymoon. What about you my dear man.....you left Northumberland rather hastily and not a word since....how come you're here in Paris?"  
"I'm here with my....patroness," he almost whispered the final word and indicated the Comtesse.  
Lady Croft's eyes widened as she made the connection between what Dolokhov had said and what he actually meant. Her husband however slapped him on the back and sniggered in his ear....although she did notice that the Captain had a slightly pained expression on his face.

The new Lady Croft was unsure how to act, and what to say to Elizabeth. They would return to England in a few days, and she would see her dearest friend within the week; how could she tell her that the man she believed she loved was whoring himself across France?


	23. Finding out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth's finds out how Dolokhov has been living.   
> Freddie proposes again, and this time Elizabeth considers his offer...

Elizabeth anticipated the return of her friend Emily eagerly. they were docking in Dover and planning to stop over in Belmont House for high tea prior to heading back to town and Emily's extravagant new home.  
They arrived promptly in time for tea and after a round of reintroductions, scones and buttered crumpets they covered the various artworks and architecture seen and had passed onto entertainments.  
"Bumped into that Russian chap.....Dolokhov.......absolute rascal!" Lord Croft announced, causing both Emily and Elizabeth to snort tea into their cups. Elizabeth met the gaze of her friend with questioning and troubled eyes.  
The brigadier's ears perked up at the sound of the familiar name, and he also noticed the glance between Emily and his daughter.  
"So Captain Dolokhov was in Paris was he? Did he look well? Damn shame about his mother," he commented.  
Emily began to answer, but was drowned out by her husband, "Chap looked in very good health.....got himself some very lucrative employment according to the gossips; and he looked rather pleased with himself when we eventually saw him with the woman in question!"  
Elizabeth pushed her scone to the side of her plate; her appetite suddenly vanished.  
Elizabeth's mother intervened in the conversation, " I'm glad that he is well; although I'm not sure that to discuss it further would be very appropriate! Emily dearest, tell us some more about the fashions in Paris....were you inspired?"  
The conversation continued but Elizabeth heard nothing. The only sound in her ears was mocking laughter. Even her passionate,mental image of the dashing Captain had become leering and contemptuous.

As soon as was considered polite Elizabeth left the table and went to her room. Safely behind the closed door she expected tears to fall - she had a painful lump at the back of her throat.....but she couldn't cry. She felt like she had been slapped, but she couldn't cry. She felt sadness...she wanted to cry, but she couldn't.  
There was a soft knock at her door, and Emily's voice could be heard, "Elizabeth, please let me in."  
Elizabeth opened the door to her friend and they sat on the edge of the small sofa together.  
Emily clasped her friend's slim, immobile hand. "I didn't know how to tell you; or what to tell you dearest. It was all so unexpected to see him," she squeezed Elizabeth's unresponsive hand.  
"What Lord Croft said....about a woman.......is he?......" Elizabeth could say no more.  
Emily nodded meekly, "Elizabeth, he is the consort of a very wealthy lady, she's a French countess....she was parading him around like a poodle."  
"Does he look well?" Elizabeth asked, hating herself immediately, but seeing the understanding look from Emily.  
"He looked incredibly well Elizabeth.....beautifully tailored and as handsome as ever," Emily explained honestly.  
Elizabeth pressed her palms to her gown and stood, "Well then, that's......good....for him. And you are looking very happy with married life my dear Lady Croft," Elizabeth's tone changed in her second statement and she regarded Emily with a smile, but her eyes remained empty.  
Emily had wanted to regale her friend with all of the details of her wedding night, but it suddenly felt inappropriate, and she couldn't glory in her own passionate encounters when she could see her friend trying desperately not to collapse beside her.  
"I am.....but it would make me even happier to see you similarly joined to another.......dear Freddie still adores you.......tell me you will consider him. Now....now that you know about what Dolokhov is and what he will always be," she pleaded, pressed her lips to Elizabeth's cheeks and left.

Elizabeth sat like a statue on the sofa. She heard the sound of goodbyes being shared, but remained rooted to the spot, her mind full of questions and thoughts. How had he met this countess? Had he actually gone out of his way to bed her? Was she the first....or had there been a string of them? Did she now despise him?  
Emily's parting comment however was the one which rattled around in her head over the coming days. She walked a lot by the seaside and considered her life thus far.  
And when Freddie came down to visit on Friday evening he asked for a private audience with Elizabeth as expected.   
When he walked out of the salon, grinning like a fool as he left Belmont House, Elizabeth's mother looked somewhat startled and rushed in to find her daughter with quite a different expression on her face.  
"You haven't accepted Freddie have you?" her mother asked with alarm.  
Elizabeth remained calm, "I have told him I will think on his offer," and she looked sadly at her hands on her lap. "He would make an ideal husband."  
Elizabeth's mother sighed and sat beside her, "Oh, how dreary! My dear, I beg you to reconsider......you don't love him do you?"  
Elizabeth shook her head and a brief smile crossed her lips, "NO!.....but I'm lonely, mother......and he wants me."  
"And I suppose you think that news about Dolokhov means he doesn't want you? Is that it? " her mother asked.  
"He's moved on, I didn't expect him to come back.....I'm just a little shocked that he's stooped so low, but if he loves her....." Elizabeth trailed off, her eyes falling onto the peacock blue of her bedspread and wincing at a flashed memory.  
"LOVE her? Oh tosh Elizabeth....she'll be paying him healthily for whatever services he provides......and face it, he has little other way of earning his fortune," her mother stated. "Ask yourself this; would you marrying yourself to a man who you do not love make you any different to Dolokhov?" she retired and left her daughter to brood.

The following morning, over breakfast, Elizabeth's father looked at his wan daughter. The brightness had vanished from her eyes. He'd been slightly, but not completely shocked to hear the news about Dolokhov - one of his army comrades had mentioned something about a Russian war hero being the latest lover for the Countess, but he'd dismissed it as petty gossip (because the man in question had been her lover previously!)  
He'd also been told by his wife that she was considering Freddie Ayeclyffe's offer....and much as he'd love his daughter to be married, he did not want her to make a hasty and unwise choice....damn it he was happy to have Dolokhov as his son-in-law!  
"Elizabeth dear, how do you fancy a bit of travel? I'm considering revisiting Italy.....I'd love to share some of the beauties there with you my dear," her father stated whilst shovelling roast pork into his mouth.  
Elizabeth's interest was immediately raised, "Truly? Father, do you really mean to visit Italy? Oh, I would love to see Florence. Can we go, really, can we?  
"If you would like it my dear. I will start making arrangement after breakfast," smiled her father, and he winked conspiratorially at his wife.


	24. I have raised you better than that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth and her father visit Italy....and stop off in Paris on their return.  
> She encounters Dolokhov again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a bit of graphic -ish description of what the count inflicts upon Dolokhov in this bit....sorry :(

Elizabeth and her father left a day later, she told Freddie that he would have his answer upon her return, and toured Italy for a month. She marvelled in the Duomo, the bridges of Venice and the mountains of the north.  
She enjoyed her father's company, experienced the hospitality of locals and relearned how to smile and laugh; but at night her dreams remained full of images of Fedya - in most he was peppering her body with kisses, stroking her skin and marvelling her with his intense eyes; but in others he was a snarling, mocking beast who tied her to the bed whilst he paraded faceless woman after faceless woman before her; savagely ignoring her cries for him alone.  
She would wake sweating.

"Now then my dear, since you enjoyed the fine churches of Florence so much, why don't we aim for Paris? They have some fine religious buildings as well as numerous other diversions," her father suggested over breakfast.  
Elizabeth's spine stiffened at the mention of Paris; but after such a long time no doubt Dolokhov and his countess would have moved on; and she was eager to see the famously beautiful city.  
"I think that sounds like an excellent idea Papa," she smiled. The brigadier was beginning to see flashes of his daughter back - she seemed lighter in spirit again; and although he was keen for her not to accept Freddie upon her return to England, at least if she did accept him he would feel happier that she had made the decision based upon true emotion and logic rather than loneliness and desperation.

It took several days to reach the outskirts of Paris - it loomed on the horizon in all it's bustle and sophistication. Her father was eager to see the gas street lighting and insisted that they take a walk in the evening. The streets were busy with people; there was laughter and colour everywhere and Elizabeth felt swept along with the general joie de vivre! They walked along the river, charming gatherings appeared studded alongside it full of chatter, laughter and the clinking of glasses, and it was at one of these that Elizabeth froze.  
She could hear a strong, deep and familiar baritone laugh. It caused a sharp pain in her chest and she gasped outwardly.  
The brigadier, in his slightly taller position caught sight of the Russian who was surrounded by gentlemen, all talking loudly and drinking.  
He glanced across at his daughter and took a second glance at Dolokhov, intending to move on rapidly, taking her away from any embarrassment.  
However, he was fractionally too late; Dolokhov spotted the tall features of the brigadier and was striding across towards him; through the laughing guests and around the tall hedges in order to shake the hand of the familiar face. He had not considered that Elizabeth would also he present.  
Rounding the hedge his demeanour changed instantly on coming face to face with her. Pain flashed across his face and he glanced back towards the gathering, grasping his lower lip between his teeth. The word furtive described his manner perfectly.  
"Well then, Dolokhov......of all the people....fancy you being here in Paris!" the brigadier held out his hand towards the captain.  
Dolokhov accepted the handshake, "How very unexpected to see you, sir....and Miss Middleton also," he turned his attention towards Elizabeth, stretching out his hand to greet her formally.  
Elizabeth did not meet his gaze, and moved her body physically around so that he could not kiss her hand.   
"Lord and Lady Croft mentioned they had seen you when they were lately in Paris celebrating their wedding," the brigadier went on, meeting the eyes of the Russian with a rueful, steady look.  
Dolokhov nodded minutely and swallowed.  
"There man, it is good to see you looking so well," continued the brigadier, patting him on the shoulder.  
Dolokhov was once again moved by the generosity of Elizabeth's father - it was clear he knew about his present 'occupation', but it was also clear that he was trying to make the man feel no shame.  
A female voice behind them made Dolokhov wince and pull his shoulders back, fidgeting with his cuff.   
"Darling Fedya......do we have more guests?" a tall, elegant lady wearing an impossibly low cut gown of mauve taffeta floated into view, draping herself around Dolokhov and resting her palm against his chest, slotting her fingers between the fabric of his shirt to stroke his chest below.  
"This is Brigadier Middleton, a friend from England, his estate is in the north....and his daughter," explained Dolokhov in his faultless and beautifully accented French.  
"Then they must join us!" she trilled, "Come Brigadier; you must see all that Paris has to offer, and my parties are always the gayest in town," and she turned with Dolokhov, dragging him back towards the gathering, her hand splayed across his buttocks.  
The brigadier moved to follow them, but Elizabeth caught his arm,  
"Father?! How can you expect me to associate with that man.......he's no better than a common prostitute!" she hissed.  
The brigadier snatched his arm away from his daughter and regarded her with a degree of disappointment,  
"Elizabeth, I have raised you better than that. You are a gentlewoman; it is not our place to look down on those who have fallen into misfortune. The man is no doubt being paid by that.....woman......but think why! He has a sister to support, no doubt he feels he has debts to repay.....you'll be civil to him," and he held his arm awaiting Elizabeth to accept it.  
Begrudgingly she did and they joined the merriment behind the hedges - ices, champagne, fire breathers, dancing; indeed all manner of amusements.  
Elizabeth caught him looking across at her several times, she wanted to ignore him; but his presence was so overwhelming to her senses she could not.   
He looked incredibly handsome................obviously he was being very well recompensed for his role. He was wearing a cream shirt with a matching cravat, fastened with a gold pin, his trousers were dark grey and tightly fitted to his legs with long black boots worn outside them. His coat was exceptionally well fitted and enhanced the broadness of his shoulders and the slightness of his waist. It was deep, plum coloured velvet and his waistcoat was a fine, silver grey satin, he had a gold watch and chain tucked into the pocket. His hair and moustache was as dark and intimidating as ever; but his green eyes did not reflect the smouldering charisma she remembered....except for when they caught hers.

She stayed away from him, even moving and leaving conversations when she sensed him walking over. She watched him though. Each time the countess snaked her way around him she noticed he stood more erect and although he was clearly charming her he looked rigid. When the countesses husband came anywhere near him she could swear she saw a brief flash of terror cross his face, and she noticed that he gripped his glass more tightly, his knuckles turning white.  
He was dragged away by the countess and count at around midnight, not before casting a glance towards her waiting eyes. She gave the tiniest nod in his direction and was rewarded with a small Dolokhov smile, a smile just for her.

As the count impaled Dolokhov's most intimate entrance (following a few cigar burns and rope being tied around his neck so that he could be dragged around the room like a dog) he found he was able to withstand the sexual torture inflicted upon him more easily - he took himself away to a different place; he was in Elizabeth's bed chamber; she was laid out on her bed with her hair around her face; he was covering her body with soft, feathery kisses and she was moaning with delight.  
Afterwards, when they kicked him out of their chamber; a diamond tie stud tossed carelessly after him as 'reward', he dressed and walked zombie like towards the apartment she kept for him. He would wait until he was safely there before he would allow the tears to fall.


	25. No more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth follows Dolokhov and discovers some of the things he has put himself through in order to earn enough money....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few descriptions of injuries - physical and mental I suppose you could say.

When Elizabeth and her father reached their hotel shortly after leaving the banks of the Seine, she did not feel like sleeping. She tried to switch her thoughts from Dolokhov, but under normal circumstances she thought of him before she slept. This evening however she thought of him and definitely knew that she could not sleep – not with the images of his body so fresh in her mind. But it was the image of his eyes that caused her the most frustration – he looked sad, and there was another emotion there too. If she had seen that look in another man she would have sworn it was fear….but this was Fedya Dolokhov, decorated war hero….surely he was frightened of nothing?  
Looking out of her window she noticed that there was still a lot of activity on the wide streets; it was a fine night; she was too restless to sleep so she decided to go out into Paris alone.  
She tried to retrace the route from the Seine to the hotel, but in an attempt to do it in reverse took several wrong turns and ended up wandering along unfamiliar streets; however the smattering of jolly people along the walkways made her feel safe and she found it soothing to wander aimlessly along for some time.  
Turning down an avenue she saw another lone figure trudging with intent. Her heart leapt…it was him. His shoulders were slumped, he was walking in an awkward manner, as if injured and his face was tight with tension.  
He hadn’t seen her, he was a little way ahead and on impulse she followed him. He didn’t glance around or notice her at all and eventually turned into a building with a large black doorway.  
From her position across the avenue she watched as a light became visible in the corner room on the first floor. Without giving the situation much thought she crossed the avenue, walked through the small door in the gate and made her way up to the first floor of the building; winding her way around the carpeted staircase. She glanced along the corridor and saw light beneath one of the doors and approached it.  
She was about to knock when she stopped. She considered what she was actually doing there, and what on earth she would say to him……she was overthinking it all….and that only ever complicated things, so she knocked….a firm, but restrained two taps of her knuckles against the door.  
She heard movement from inside and a grunted, “Oui, j’arrive,” in his unmistakable gravelly voice.  
When he opened the door to her he gasped and froze…..she was there, and she was beautiful – the early morning walk had left a sheen of sweat on her upper lip and her breast was heaving against the bodice of her gown.  
When he opened the door to her she gasped and froze……he was there, and he was beautiful – he had stripped off his coat, cravat and waistcoat and stood with one hand on each side of the door frame staring open mouthed at her, his breathing appeared laboured and his face and eyes a little pinker than usual; probably from alcohol she assumed, wrongly.  
Elizabeth felt almost unable to control her actions, but she extended her hand to him and with more calmness than she felt uttered, “Earlier, I was badly mannered and didn’t allow you to greet me properly……I’m sorry,……… it is good to see you again, Captain Dolokhov.”  
He stretched out his arm to receive her elegant, but shaking hand. He was drawing it towards his lips, but instead gave a sharp inhalation of breath and pulled her inside the doorway and captured her lips with his own.   
Elizabeth returned his kiss with eagerness and a passion which felt like it had grown stronger in his absence. His lips on hers felt warm, soft, tender and yet the intensity of his mouth made it feel like her heart was crushing against her ribs. His tongue sought out hers as her lips parted against his and she stifled a moan in her throat as his arms slid around her, pulling her into the warm safety of his muscular chest.  
She felt her own hands rise to his neck and there was a slight hitch to his breathing as she allowed them to press against his skin and tangle into his dark mane.  
It was then that she felt moisture on her cheeks and drawing back noticed that Dolokhov was sobbing as he kissed her.  
Elizabeth pulled herself away from his lips and gave a questioning look into his moist eyes.  
He shook his head in response and huskily whispered, “Please……. just hold me…….be kind to me,” and he pressed his lips into her hair over and over again as she allowed him to.  
Some time later she felt the tension in his shoulders begin to relax and his breathing became calm and deep against her as they stood in a motionless dance.  
“Why?” was all she asked, sadly.  
He released her immediately and strode across to a desk at the side of the room. He was panting and the tension was back like a switch being flicked. She followed him at a slower, less steady pace and saw that laid out on the desk were various piles of bank notes. Each had below it a small, neatly printed label in an expressively fluid script – although they were written in Russian Elizabeth was beginning to recognise some words, and she could definitely see ‘Brigadier Middleton’ on one card, and the word ‘London’ on another.  
He picked up and regarded the small gold stud he had worn that night and held it up without pleasure,  
“Do you know what this is?” he asked, “It’s the rest of the rent on a property in London large enough for me and my sister.” He went on to pick up the discarded gold watch on a side table, “And this…..this pays for Katerina’s fare from Russia…” his voice broke slightly and Elizabeth could feel moistness at her eyes.  
“And this,” he held up the diamond stud, “This is freedom, sanity and my respect back.” He looked at her flatly, “So now you can go…..you know what I am…..was……I never was much of a catch….” His voice trailed off as he looked out onto the streets.  
Elizabeth walked behind him and reached her arms around him, encircling him with as much tenderness as she could. It was at this point, pressed against the soft, silk of his shirt that she noticed blood seeping through the fabric at his shoulder and when she traced her fingers over the spot he winced and drew breath in sharply.  
Wordlessly she pulled his shirt from his trousers; he tried to prevent her, but she was firm and determined in her actions, and it was as if he hadn’t the strength to defend himself.  
Dragging the fabric over his head she stifled a scream at the sight. His beautiful body was marked with a mixture of calloused, white scars; new, seeping red ones and vicious looking circular welts. There was an angry red wound encircling his neck and when she trailed her hand across his buttocks in order to turn him around she saw the same, sharp flash of pain cross his steely face.  
“They owned me,” he said dejectedly, “But no more.”  
Elizabeth tried to reign in the mixture of emotions coursing through her slight body. He was broken, and all she wanted to do was fix him.  
“Come,” she whispered, and lead him across to the large bed in the adjoining room. She made him sit on the edge of it and knelt to gently remove his boots before crossing to the wash stand to bring water and a cloth. With a tenderness Dolokhov had forgotten could exist she cleaned each open wound and then washed his face, caressing each part of his body as if it were made of the finest porcelain before moving onto the next.   
As a soldier, and after the many duels he had fought he had had a good many people tend to his injuries, but Elizabeth appeared not just to be dealing with his physical injuries, but also attempting to address his mental state; which was fragile to say the least.  
When she was finished cleaning his torso and back she moved to unfasten his trousers, but felt his hand cover hers and saw his face full of shame. She removed her hand and instead peeled the covers from the bed and urged him to lie inside, she then moved to lay on the bed above the covers next to him.  
As she pulled his body towards her, comforting him with her caresses rather than seeking to excite him she couldn’t help but notice the distinct lack of firmness from him pressing against her. Her passion and desire for him remained strong, and she would spend forever just holding his body close if that was all he could offer….but as she felt his breathing become deep and regular she prayed that he would come back to her…..her Fedya, not the Dolokhov that those brutes had used so abominably.  
“Please don’t leave me again,” she whispered into his sleeping form. She then extracted herself from his limp embrace and arranged the pillows and covers around him before she left.  
She wrote a short note and left it alongside the piles of money on the desk.  
She found her way back to her hotel and fell exhausted into bed, sobbing all the pain in her heart into her pillow.


	26. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth and her father discuss what to do, the Brigadier teels her how he feels guilty of Dolokhov's current state.

It was early in the morning when Elizabeth returned to the hotel, and after she had sobbed for sometime she got up; still dressed as she had been the night before. She could hear movement within her father’s adjoining room and she knocked softly against the door. Her father’s voice invited her in – he was sat in his dressing robe at the small desk, writing. He saw her fully dressed form and made a slightly rueful nod – he had assumed that the interaction with Dolokhov would have affected her and left her restless.  
“Father……Captain Dolokhov….he’s…..” Elizabeth began, but her voice was cut off by the brigadier.  
“Yes, yes, I know all that…..feel terrible about it…….my fault you see!” he shook his head and slapped his fist against the table. Elizabeth regarded him with concern and confusion.  
He beckoned her towards him and she sat on the edge of the bed, facing him; he reached for her hand and clasped it to his leg;  
“When I gave him the funds to return to Russia, to see his mother after her death, you see…..I didn’t give him enough for the return – thought he’d be too proud to accept it and I was right in a way….damn fellow has been too proud to ask anyone for it…..and so look what he’s become,” at this point he regarded his daughter with a searching look, “You do understand don’t you? You know what he is doing with that woman, and why he’s so well dressed?”  
Elizabeth nodded calmly; the brigadier copied her actions – he was glad in a way that his daughter was sensible enough to understand the world and that he didn’t have to explain the more dubious and unpleasant aspects of it to her.  
“So, I told him….” He continued, “If you want her you’ll find a way back to her………that’s what I stupidly said…..and this is how he’s gone about it! Hardly surprising……quite inventive in a way – got to admire him somewhat!” and he looked at Elizabeth sadly.  
Elizabeth’s head dropped, “I saw him father…..I wasn’t meaning to, but I went out walking and he was there….and I followed him.” She felt fat tears start to fall across her cheeks again.  
Her father remained calm and stroked her hand, he knew her well enough to know that she would offer any details in her own time and no sooner.  
At length, she sniffed, “They have been cruel to him.” She felt her father’s hand tighten over hers and when she looked she saw anger behind his eyes.  
“My fault, damn it…….I am to blame,” he muttered, shaking his head and rubbing his temples with his free hand.  
Elizabeth didn’t comment – she knew it was pointless trying to persuade him otherwise; and also she knew that in a slight way he was correct – he hadn’t forced Dolokhov into prostituting himself, but he could potentially have negated the need.  
“He says it is finished now…..he has these piles of money – I couldn’t read all of it, but he has some with a label and your name, and his sister’s name and another pile that said something about London.  
At this news her father perked up at little, “Oh, that’s very good news then, very good……good, and it fits into what I’m doing here my Bethie,” he indicated the letter he was drafting in his large and swirling script. “Regardless of anything recent the man is a damn fine soldier…….looking into getting him a commission.”  
Elizabeth’s heart leapt, “In England? In the English army….is that possible?”  
Her father shrugged, “He’s as skilled as any Englishman with a sword and musket by all accounts, they’d be foolish to turn the man away…..especially if he buys it…..I was planning to do it myself, but the man’s so damn proud it would be even better if he thought he’d earned it himself!”  
Elizabeth began to feel a little hope. Her father continued writing now and asked her during a pause, “And did you say you know where he’s living currently?”  
Elizabeth nodded, “But I assume it is paid for by her….so who knows how much longer he’ll remain there.”  
“ Then send for the hotel porter to get this into the mail as quickly as possible,” he said, folding the letter so that the detailed address was visible. He then took a fresh piece of paper and began a second letter, written in French and addressed to Captain Fyodor Dolokhov.  
Elizabeth took the opportunity of returning to her room to undress, wash and change into fresh clothes. She hoped that he could remain strong for a little while longer; her Fedya, as she now thought of him.


	27. Because you see, I love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dolokhov reads Elizabeth's note, receives another from her father and thoughts move to England for everyone.

Dolokhov awoke feeling oddly rested, but he winced when he rolled over and the fabric of the covers caught against his freshly cleaned wounds. He could smell Elizabeth on his pillow….he hadn’t dreamed her being there had he? No….he could never have dreamed such detail, or her perfume on his pillow, and in his hair.  
He sat up and glanced around – she was gone, but he could see a note propped up against his ‘reminder table’ and it was not in his script.  
He got up, noting that he still had half of his clothing on beneath the covers. He snatched up the note, which was simply addressed to ‘Fedya’. He swept his thumb across the ink and a small smile played on his lips.  
Inside he read:  
“I have not abandoned you, but I cannot help you whilst I am here. You said it was over, please, please; for my sake, make that be true. I cannot bear the thought of anyone causing you further harm, because you see, I love you.  
Your most faithful and admiring friend,  
Elizabeth “  
Dolokhov re read the final sentence again and again, his eyes moistening with her admission and with the own reciprocation of those feelings burning within him.  
He looked around the apartment hastily…..almost everything inside it belonged to ‘them’, not him. He needed to leave; they would come for him at some point, and he didn’t intend to give them any more of himself than they had already taken. He regarded his trousers and realised that they too were not his possession, he stripped them off and rummaged in the wardrobe for his military uniform instead – this was who he was, and who he would be again.  
He was gathering his earnings and putting the whole lot inside a cloth bag when a note was pushed beneath his door. It was relatively commonplace for him to receive summons in this manner, and he shuddered, thinking of ignoring it on this occasion.  
When he was ready to leave he almost stepped over the note, but glancing down he recognised, or rather didn’t recognise the script, it was also addressed to Captain Dolokhov. He paused and swept it up, opening it and scanning the writing – in French…..and from Brigadier Middleton he saw from the swirling signature at the end:  
“My dear Captain,  
I am led to believe that you are seeking to leave Paris. Would you please be so good as to consider London as an alternative? I have been informed that soldiers with skills such as your own are very much in demand, and I am mindful that a commission in one of the English regiments could easily be found for a man with your determination and single minded focus. I admire that in a man, remember that.  
Brigadier Charles Middleton”  
…and here he was again; this man, dangling hope in front of him….making him dare to believe that she could, possibly be his….  
He didn’t look back at the apartment as he left it, instead he strode with intent towards one of the cheaper and seedier hotels of the city. He arranged for a room and sent a letter to his old Russian friend Dennisov.  
Then he waited for his sister to arrive.  
____________  
Brigadier Middleton wrote as quickly as he could and then sent for a porter to deliver the note personally. He knocked on Elizabeth’s door so that she could give rough directions, but as it happened, Captain Dolokhov’s apartment was apparently well known.  
They spent the remainder of the day packing their belongings up and preparing to return to England as planned. By evening they were driving out of the city, leaving behind the street lights, sights and sounds…..and somewhere in all of that he was still there.  
And 2 days after that Elizabeth and her father were reunited with their beloved mother in Belmont House, Lewes.  
_____  
At length Katerina arrived in Paris. His dear friend Denisov had accompanied her all of the way, and would hear none of Dolokhov’s arguments about reimbursing him for both the expense and his time.  
“I’ll hear none of it. I only ask one favour……allow me to come with you; to England?” Denisov asked.  
Fedya was slightly perplexed, but had no reason to deny his friend’s request and the pair embraced warmly. Katerina was clearly not pleased about travelling so far, and even less happy about leaving Russia, let alone moving to England. She and her brother had a series of heated exchanges in Russian whilst Denisov experienced Paris and ALL it had to offer!  
Katerina could not sway her brother though – his duty was to provide for her and protect her, which he would do with every breath left in his body…..but only if she returned to England with him. He promised she would be safe there, he would ensure they had a pleasant, if simple home and he would even allow Denisov to remain with them so as she could converse in Russian with someone.  
She looked much older than her years, her plain clothing and hunched back doing little to improve her quite pleasing features – dark as her brother with porcelain skin.  
Reluctantly, and fearing she had little choice – especially knowing that Denisov would go with her brother and she would be all but stranded unless she went with them, she agreed and Fedya looked happy, and felt happy for the first time and a week.


	28. Branch out a little.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot happening, but Emily and Elizabeth discuss her married life...and wheels are put in motion for Elizabeth to tell Freddie his answer

Elizabeth had a good many invitations waiting for her upon her return to England, and she decided to take up her friend Emily, now Lady Croft on her invitation to stay with them in their London home. She had missed town and she wanted to talk to Emily about Dolokhov – she felt like she needed to explain his actions more; although a larger part of her was past caring what others thought.  
She explained her intention to her parents who naturally were supportive; they would be remaining in Lewes for a while longer and they could all travel up to Middleton Hall together in a couple of months. Although, her mother did encourage her to seek out Freddie and give him a fair answer to his proposal.  
Lord and Lady Croft’s London residence was large and imposing. It was full of gleaming marble, dark wood and staff! Emily however had arranged Elizabeth’s rooms herself, so they were cosy and tasteful, with plenty of books available.  
Upon her arrival she saw to her toilette and joined Emily for tea. Emily had told visitors to stay away for the day, so they were alone and could catch up with news and gossip. Elizabeth started by asking Emily more details about her marriage – they discussed the act of being intimate; which Emily said was ‘fairly uncomfortable and not particularly jolly’ according to her. However, being Lady Croft was very much to her amusement – it allowed her access to tables in some of the best tea salons; she was permitted to order as many new gowns and hats as she required or fancied and she could host extravagant dinners and parties which everyone wanted to attend!   
“I am not with child yet though….which vexes Alistair,” she admitted, dropping her head.  
Elizabeth put on her practical head and matter of factly asked, “How often does he visit you? Each night?” as she helped herself to sandwiches. She caught Emily’s shocked face.  
“Oh come, Emily….I have read enough of the classics to know what occurs between married men and women and how babies are created! So, how often, is it pleasureable and is it always productive?” Elizabeth pressed further.  
“How do you mean?......productive?” Emily asked. She was not as widely read as Elizabeth, preferring silly romances where the hero and heroine merely kiss and fall into each others’ arms – highly romantic, but not really very descriptive about the act of love making!  
Elizabeth continued in her very practical tone, “Does he always produce seed?” she saw a slightly perplexed look on her friend, “The liquid? When he is aroused enough, he should produce it….within you if you are to conceive a child with him!”  
Emily blushed and looked thoughtful, “I thought the liquid was nasty……I always get up and wash it all away with a cloth!” she admitted.  
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows a little, “No wonder you are having problems becoming pregnant dearest……you should remain lying down and definitely, don’t wash away the very product needed to create the child!”  
Emily smiled a little at her naivety, “And when you say pleasurable?” she continued.   
Elizabeth paused with her teacup midway between saucer and mouth, “Oh Emily…..you know what I mean by pleasurable! It feels pleasing…..nice……like when you stroke yourself?” she could tell from the vacant and slightly alarmed look from her friend that all of this was news to her.  
“Does he do anything to you at all before he…….enters you?” Elizabeth asked.  
Emily wrinkled her nose and shook her head.  
“He doesn’t kiss you?” Elizabeth ventured.  
“Well, yes, we do kiss a little….which is nice….and sometimes he kisses my neck,” she whispered this as if it were the biggest of secrets.  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, “So he never kisses anywhere else? Not your breasts? Or…..lower down?” she asked….already knowing the answer, but a little shocked by Emily’s response.  
“Of course NOT! I’m not a harlot!” Emily hissed.  
Elizabeth couldn’t help but giggle, “I’m not suggesting you become one….but you may find that you can enjoy the whole thing a lot more if you……branch out a little….read a little of the Greek classics……and leave the book around for Alistair!” she suggested.  
They consumed sandwiches and cakes for a pleasant time, occasionally sniggering about their previous conversation. Finally, after asking for more hot water for their tea Emily asked;  
“Did you see him? I take it you went to Paris? Was he still there?”   
Elizabeth nodded and saw the shake of Emily’s head.  
“He is disgusting! How on earth we shall be able to avoid him though is anyone’s guess – Alistair considers him a true friend and won’t hear bad of him….and he’s apparently on his way here….to London! Bringing one of his Russian friends and his sister by all accounts!” she jabbed her pastry fork around as she spoke.  
Elizabeth waited for a slight pause in Emily’s tirade,  
“But, I love him Emily,” she said, smiling with true delight and warmth.  
Her friend regarded her, open mouthed, “No?! Elizabeth, my dear, you could have any number of men….why on earth him? You do know what he was doing with that countess; and by all accounts the count as well!?!”  
Elizabeth continued to smile and nodded, “Yes….and he was doing that because he was too proud to ask the likes of your husband, or any of his other friends for money….he would rather earn it himself, no matter the manner……..and if he’ll ask me, I shall say yes to him, without a second thought!”  
Emily cocked her head to one side and considered her friend, “You know something more……..have you kissed him?!?” Emily asked, wide eyed.  
Elizabeth didn’t break her gaze with her friend, nor did she change her expression; but her oldest friend could read her like a novel. “You HAVE!” she shouted triumphantly, “You have kissed him!”  
Elizabeth felt it best to keep some secrets and merely nodded, “And I adore it…..I adore him! And he definitely HAS read the Greek classics!”  
Emily shook her head, laughing, “Elizabeth, you never cease to amaze me! Well…..Alistair has offered them to stay whilst he arranges lodgings…I had told him I didn’t approve; I assume you would like me to reconsider my view!” and she raised her eyebrows at her friend. “The rooms across the landing from you are available……..or maybe he’d prefer the library!”  
They both sniggered at their knowledge of Dolokhov and his alleged dalliances with Helena Corden in the library!  
“But Freddie is also on his way…….” Emily murmured.  
Elizabeth cleared her throat calmly, “ I know. I sent for him. Before I left I told him I would consider his proposal…..so I must give him an answer……I feel a little ashamed for giving him false hope.”  
“Poor Freddie,” Emily sighed.


	29. 2 proposals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth has to deal with 2 proposals in one morning.  
> we also learn that Dolokhov isn't quite 'fixed' after his ordeal at the hands of the count and countess yet.

Dolokhov was thrilled to receive word from Lord Croft that he was still welcome, and that his English friend would be happy to provide accommodation for him, his sister and their friend whilst he arranged a suitable lodging to rent.  
This being the final requirement needed to secure his sister’s reluctant acceptance, they set off across the Channel and landed in England on a bright, crisp November day. The weather pleased Katerina – it reminded her of Moscow – she’d been expecting rain and dampness. Plus the countryside they passed was beguiling shades of green and golden brown as the trees had not fully shed their leaves. Her brother seemed relaxed as soon as he set foot back on English soil, and she found herself offering him a small smile; which made his heart swell in his chest.  
Denisov discussed his plans – he intended to stay in London and enjoy all it offered, at least for a season, which meant he would stay at least a year. Dolokhov had planned to find accommodation suitable for just him and his sister, but with Denisov in tow they would require a larger property – voicing this to his friend. Denisov agreed and also offered to contribute significantly to the rental costs, meaning that the small, slightly shabby properties which Dolokhov had been considering could now become larger, less dingy ones – which he knew would please Katerina.  
Their journey into London was uneventful and Dolokhov felt pleased to be surrounded by familiar streets and buildings again. Denisov was twisting and turning in the carriage to try to absorb as many views as possible; Katerina remained quiet, but her brother’s hand on her arm and patting her hand helped her to remain calm.  
They arrived at Lord Croft’s London mansion late and were greeted by staff who escorted them to rooms – Denisov on the third floor, with a pleasant view of Regent’s Park and Dolokhov and his sister in rooms almost adjoining, with a sitting room and private bathing rooms.  
Dolokhov made sure that his sister was comfortable; a very pleasant housemaid, who he noticed had a profound limp, brought hot water for her and smiled as she helped hang her travelling cape. She made no visible retraction to the sight of her hunched back, and indeed the sight of her limp seemed to relax Katerina who told him in Russian that she would be quite fine and would see him before breakfast.  
He retired to his own room and noticed a number of letters addressed to him on the writing desk. Each one he opened contained the same – a request for him to consider a commission! Each one for a different section or regiment, but basically exulting his skills to the highest and begging him to consider them. Each one seemed to be based on a ‘recommendation from a highly respected member of the English army’…..I wonder if that could be a brigadier he mused as he sat and laughed outloud, counting 2,3,5,6 different offers. Although one in particular caught his eye more than the others and he placed it on the top of the pile before he undressed, washed and slipped into the crisp sheets of the bed.  
__________  
Elizabeth rose early and breakfasted with Alistair and Emily. The butler, Hammond, informed Lord Croft that his guests had arrived late the previous evening and that they had not yet risen. Elizabeth and Emily exchanged knowing looks across the table and Elizabeth began to feel palpitations in the pit of her stomach.   
"Have some breakfast taken to the salon for them in an hour or so, Hammond," Emily instructed, "I am sure they will feel more comfortable in their own company, especially the poor sister."  
Lord Croft smile down the table at his wife's thoughtfulness.....his mother had felt she would need a deal of work to become an appropriate 'Lady', but something about her natural charm and compassion meant that he found her adapting to her role with rapid grace and aptitude.

Elizabeth and Emily retired to her sitting room to focus on embroidery and other female pastimes whilst Alistair attended to some business in his study.   
An hour or so passed.  
__________  
Dolokhov awoke from a deeply relaxing sleep with the smell of strong coffee wafting into his nostrils. He could hear the faint clink of a tray in the adjoining room and moments later a valet entered his room and drew back the drapes to wake him.   
"Lady Croft thought you may wish to take breakfast in the salon with your sister, Sir," stated the valet before busying himself with Dolokhov's clothes, which had miraculously been sponged and pressed whilst he slept.  
The valet was efficient at his role and Dolokhov was fresh and smartly attired in very little time. He moved through to the salon and helped himself to some of the delicious coffee. A short time later the other door opened and Katerina joined him, looking slightly awed by the surroundings and attention. He noticed that the same maid was waiting on her as had done the previous night, and she came through to the salon to physically escort Katerina towards the breakfast choices laid out. She kindly took her elbow and at each domed platter lifted it and indicated the contents with a questioning smile. Katerina was a little shocked and unsure what to do, but her brother spoke to her calmly in Russian, "Point to what you would like to eat and this maid will bring it over to you.....don't worry, it is her job to do that for you," he smiled at his sister's shyness; but hunger was a powerful factor in overcoming fear; and Katerina moved back to the first silver dome of kippers and smiled at the maid.  
"Kippers Miss, very good choice," and she beamed at her charge as she ushered her to the one of the other seats at the table. A third had been laid for Denisov and he was shown into the salon by a further member of staff as Katerina was smelling her coffee with delight.  
Katerina gabbled to Denisov in Russian, making Dolokhov laugh - she was explaining to him how to behave as if she was a seasoned professional; but he accepted the unnecessary information in good jest....he had a soft spot for Katerina, not marriage material, but a beautiful soul.  
The arrival of Denisov enabled Dolokhov to make his excuses in order to seek out his old friend Lord Croft in order to thank him in person for his generosity; and also to ask for support in arranging a visit to a property he had been given details about.  
He wiped his moustache and left the salon to make his way downstairs where he assumed he would find his friend.  
As he was making his way along the passage his nostrils were filled with a faint, familiar aroma of lavender and orange blossom, but he disregarded it. He heard the door bell and the deep tones of the butler.  
He was at the top of the staircase when he heard the announcement:  
"Mr Ayeclyffe to see Miss Middleton."  
His jaw dropped open and he felt his stomach jolt, as if he'd been punched hard:  
"No," he started to lean over the banister, "NO!" he shouted as he hurtled his boot clad feet down the shallow, sweeping staircase. He slid around the banister finial towards the direction Freddie Ayeclyffe had been escorted and almost bumped into Lady Croft as she extracted herself from the room so that her friend could do what she had promised to do.  
"Captain Dolokhov!" she announced, somewhat startled by his presence and proximity.  
He was staring wildly after the retreating form of Freddie Ayeclyffe; gesticulating and panting with the shock and exertion of running full pelt down the stairs.  
"Come with me," Emily ordered, taking his arm quite forcefully and moving him into the morning room. He twisted his head in the direction of her sitting room, but Emily was insistent.  
"Sit down, Captain, and wait," she stated clearly, using her hand to signal her instructions to him.  
He sat, panting on the sofa, his palm spread across the lower part of his face, his hooded eyes visible over it looked anguished and Emily couldn't help but take pity on him. She sat next to him on the sofa and placed her hand on his arm gently, making him jump slightly.  
"She is telling him no," she smiled at him and repeated, "Freddie, no."  
The anguished look softened slightly as reality dawned on him, "No?" he pointed towards the other room, then towards himself, "No?"  
Emily almost giggled at the ridiculousness of the discussion - he having very limited English, she having no Russian or French - she pointed towards the sitting room and repeated, "Freddie, no," then pointed to the Russian next to her, "Captain Dolokhov.....I think yes!" she giggled.  
He pointed back at himself, "Yes? Elizabeth.....there? Freddie no......Dolokhov, yes?"  
"Oh glory, hurry up Elizabeth and let this ridiculous Russian propose to you," Emily laughed as Dolokhov began pacing around the room, babbling in Russian and gesticulating wildly with his hands and checking his appearance in the large mantel mirror.

A few moments later there was an audible opening of a door, together with a familiar female voice, "I'm sorry Freddie. I should never have lead you to believe I would accept you. You are a very kind man, but I don't love you, and I don't wish to be married to you," and the sound of rapid, male footsteps along the marble corridor.  
A flurry of lighter footsteps followed and Elizabeth barged into the morning room, expecting to see Emily waiting for her;  
"Oh Emily, he was devastated, but I told him no.........." her sentence was cut short by the sight of Fedya moving towards her his hands outstretched and his dark eyes piercing hers.  
"Tell me you refused him....please, dearest, darling Elizabeth.....please tell me I'm not too late?" he erupted in French as he captured her soft hands in his own.  
"I told no him," Elizabeth stated in her floundering Russian, earning a heartbreaking smile from him as his thumb traced the shape of her lips.  
Both Elizabeth and Dolokhov forgot that Emily was still in the room, and she didn't wish to disturb their emotional reunion, so she quietly turned and picked up a novel from the side table whilst their interaction continued.  
"You truly told him no?" Dolokhov continued, his hand squeezing hers. Elizabeth nodded, her eyes sparkling as they stared into his.  
"Because you see.....I don't love him," she smiled.  
The slight hitch in Dolokhov's breath coincided with him dropping to his knee infront of her, with her hand clasped between his 2, shaking but firm ones he looked directly into her eyes:  
"Meeting you was the most life changing moment of my existence; getting to know a little about you made me realise that I wanted to become a better person; losing you felt like there was no point to my life; and then discovering that you hadn't given up on me was like finding the sunshine once more. I sure as hell don't deserve you, but and I will spend my life trying to be worthy of you, trying to be as good as you...trying to love you in body as much as I love you in my heart and soul. You once wrote that you loved me......please, let me show you how much I love and adore you. Please become my wife Elizabeth?"   
The statement made Elizabeth think back to when she had asked Freddie Ayeclyffe for a reason why she should marry him, and he had regaled her with reason after reason as to why he would be better off....and yet here was her Russian rascal, laying his heart wide open for her, and she needed no reason at all to accept him!  
Elizabeth stifled a small sob and covered her mouth with her free hand as she dropped down to the floor in front of her Captain. She saw him struggling to contain his emotions - the shock of having this sprung on him so unexpectedly had rendered him breathless - and caressed his soft beard and unruly curls with her slender hand, smiling and nodding her head repeatedly, "Yes, yes.......I want nothing more!" she sobbed as he enveloped her in his shaking arms, burying his head into that familiar scent of lavender and orange blossom.  
Elizabeth was beginning to relax into his embrace when he abruptly released her and stood up, "Wait! Stay there....I have a ring....this was not how it was supposed......wait there," and he sprinted off down the corridor and up the staircase taking 3 stairs at a time. Lord Croft observed his friend and shouted after him, "Fedya old chap.....why the haste?" his shouted reply drifted through the hall, "She said yes!"

In the morning room, Emily and Elizabeth were embracing and wiping away tears. Emily hadn't understood a word of what was said between them except for of course the 'yes' part....but she had fully comprehended the complete sincerity in Dolokhov's words and tone and could tell that her friend was delighted.

Moments later Dolokhov returned, pushing past Alistair in his hurry to get back to Elizabeth and rushing over to her; his long hair flying against his collar.   
Panting he held out a small black velvet box, open to reveal a large, deep, red ruby and diamond ring set on a gold band. It was exquisite and quite breathtaking;  
"It was my mother's," he stated, "I wanted you to have it. I could never have sold it."  
Elizabeth traced her fingers over the beautiful ring and swallowed. He could have sold this ring and removed the need for everything in Paris. If she wasn't already as much in love with the man as she was, this action would have just about tipped her over the edge.  
He removed it from the cushioned satin and placed it on her hand - it was a tiny bit too large, but Elizabeth shook her head at his concern, "It is perfect."

Lord Croft motioned for his wife to accompany him and they left the pair with their hands clasped and foreheads pinned together.  
"For God's sake man, kiss her!" Alistair yelled as he turned to close the door behind them.  
They didn't kiss straight away.....they breathed the same air as each other, swayed a little and he sought clarification once more:  
"So you really do love me then?" he whispered, huskily.  
"Yes......you and no other," she replied, her eyes clear and determined as they stared into his.  
And then he kissed her. An intense, lingering and focussed kiss; his lips slanting over hers as his hands moved around her body, cupping her neck. She tasted safe, warm and like home and her mouth swallowed the moan he produced when she slid her tongue inside his parted lips and they deepened their passion for each other.  
His splayed hand pressed her body close into him, but she felt no hardness from him despite the ardour in his kisses and she pulled back slightly, her eyes trying to read his expression.  
"I wasn't planning on asking you...yet....not until.....I may need some time; you saw some of my wounds...." he trailed off.  
Elizabeth lifted his dropped chin with her finger tips, "I love you.....you will be MY husband.... and only mine, and when you feel safe once more then I'll be truly your wife....no matter how long that takes, my love.....but for now, just kiss me."  
And he did....for quite a long part of the morning....until Denisov came in search of him and they shared their news.


	30. Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things move a bit faster - Fedya and Elizabeth become married and their future is arranged.

Fedya introduced Elizabeth to his sister, who upon hearing her faltering attempts at Russian decided to love her immediately; plus she could see how happy her dear brother appeared beside her.  
Naturally the next decision was when and how to inform Elizabeth’s parents – Dolokhov was quite insistent that he needed to formally seek the brigadier’s permission, so it was decided they should all travel down to Lewes in person – at least, Dolokhov, Elizabeth and Katerina; Denisov requested and was granted permission to remain in London in the company of Lord and Lady Croft.  
Their arrival at Lewes was met with warmth and excitement. Elizabeth was openly wearing the ring Dolokhov had gifted her, which was instantly noted by her mother, who clasped her hands to her face and beamed.  
“Come and talk to me in my study young man,” the brigadier encouraged Dolokhov – he looked a little uneasy, but Elizabeth gave him a confident smile; he was still biting his lip and fidgeting with his cuff though. The brigadier rested his arm across his shoulders however as they approached the door to the study and she noticed her Fedya relax a little as they shared a mutual laugh.  
Katerina was happier at Belmont House; it was a smaller and more comfortable house, and Elizabeth’s mother was a picture of charming smiles and softness; so when she hooked her arm through Katerna’s and motioned for them to enter the house together she was rewarded with a beautiful smile which lit up Katerina’s dark features.  
The ladies went into the parlour and tea was sent for. It had arrived before the gentlemen joined them, but it was evident their discussion had been one of success and joy – her father burst into the room, folding his hands outstretched towards Elizabeth,  
“My dear, dear girl…..I could not be happier!” he shouted, engulfing her before dragging Dolokhov across the room towards her and clasping their hands together in a very evident signal of his satisfaction in the man she had chosen. Her mother embraced Elizabeth and wiped tears from her eyes and gasped when she was able to give closer inspection to the beautiful ruby and diamond ring.  
“Now then, this fellow and I have been having a chat…..if it suits you Elizabeth we think the wedding should take place from here…..we can contact the church in town tomorrow and start the bans on Sunday if he’s agreeable,” chattered her father.  
Elizabeth was slightly overwhelmed, “Father, I am longing to be married, but is there a need for such haste? Would it not be more fitting to marry from Middleton Hall?” she queried, but noticed the slight glance between her mother and father.  
“Elizabeth dearest, the air here in Lewes is far better for my health, and your father and I have already discussed that we would like to remain here…..you may have Middleton Hall as your marriage home,” she explained.  
“Yes; and this young man here has told me he wishes to accept an honorary commission in the north; in Newcastle in fact, so it will work out perfectly well for you…..house is too big for your Ma and me…..much better to fill it with a brood of your babies, hey?” and he slapped Dolokhov across the shoulders in a manner which would have made many in society flinch about his lack of decorum; but merely made Dolokhov tilt his head, as if to say….’give me time!’  
And so they were married within 2 months. The ceremony was attended by all of their close friends; Katerina and Emily were both bridesmaids – their gowns topped with ruched and flounced capes to disguise the pronounced hunch of Katerina; and if Fedya could have loved his wife any more, that simple act of thoughtfulness would have done it!  
Philip Featherstone paid Katerina quite a lot of attention throughout the day and cast shy glances down the table in her direction whenever he thought nobody was looking. She would travel back to London with Denisov where he had established a comfortable home of a suitable size for them to share and act as companions to each other. It was also fairly handy for the hospital which was starting to develop around the university where Philip continued his studies. She made sure that she introduced him to Denisov before they departed, and urged him to be kind to the Russian pair, and help them to adapt to life in the city. She also pointed out that Katerina was a delightful and intelligent lady who would be very interested in museums and art galleries. Philip smiled shyly at her and blushed a little, but promised he would look in on them often.  
They spent their wedding night en route to Middleton Hall. Their first shared marriage bed was in an inn Elizabeth had frequented on many occasions, and when he lifted her into it and undressed her she felt like the most beautiful and loved creature, despite the fact that his sexual urges had not yet returned.  
He kissed her passionately all over, trailed his fingers across every inch of her skin; turning her over to languidly trace the curve of her buttocks. His cock remained flacid throughout; but he brought her to rapture using his tongue and fingers.   
Elizabeth in turn covered his body with soft kisses; he would always bear some actual scars across his body – his lower back and buttocks were covered with small, white slice-type scars; and Elizabeth kissed each one as he gasped and looked adoringly at her. She kissed his soft penis, the dark, musky hair at the base of his shaft and continued up to his lips and finally his eyes which she noticed were moist;  
“My darling, darling husband…..I officially claim you from this point forwards as mine……nobody’s but these lips will kiss you; nobody’s but these fingers will caress you and nobody; but nobody will hurt you ever again….I forbid it,” and she placed no further demands upon him, curling herself around his warm, firm body and stroking his hair.  
Dolokhov felt so loved and wanted, and as he drifted to sleep, hearing the soft, regular breathing of her slumbers there was a slight movement between his legs…


	31. The master returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dolokhov is back! Elizabeth finally gets some action!

It took them the usual days of travel, working their way northwards to home as it would now be known to them both.  
Each night they shared a bed; each night Dolokhov remained unaroused; however he had begun to notice that there was a slight stiffness to his member when he woke in the mornings. Noticing it made it immediately wilt at first, but as the mornings wore on he found he was able to apply his hand and feel a little firmness beneath it. He kept this from Elizabeth, waiting until he was alone and dressing, or waking before her in order to test out his development.  
He wanted his wife more than anything and it was almost torture to give her so much pleasure and for her to not be able to repay the sentiment. He knew she desired him, he knew she would wait….but damn it he didn’t want to!  
They arrived at Middleton Hall; the servants lined up and Booth introduced them to their new master. Fedya felt slightly alarmed by the realisation that he was now responsible for these people and their livelihoods; but he supposed it was not dissimilar to heading a regiment of soldiers.  
He had been learning a little English over the weeks and managed to address them in his highly accented, and incredibly sexy for it, English:  
“I am very happy to become master of this estate through my marriage to Elizabeth. I know you have cherished her, her entire life, and I shall endeavour to do the same. I shall always be fair and do not seek to make a fortune for my own sake; I would rather ensure that everyone here feels that they have enough and are supported to become the best people they can be…..my dearest Elizabeth has taught me the value of that, and her father’s principles are strong within her. Please, come to me with any concerns you ever may have, I shall always listen to you and I thank you for your loyalty.”  
He glanced across at his wife and she beamed – he had insisted on rehearsing the small speech several times in order to ensure it was correct, and the staff clearly agreed, as several of the more senior staff voiced “Bravo Sir,” and “Well said, Sir” and all of the servants broke into a brief applause.  
“Gosh….you really are incredibly masterful, husband,” she giggled as they were alone in their rooms. Elizabeth had instructed that they should not arrange her mother and father’s rooms for them; instead her own bedroom and salon had been rearranged and fresh upholstery and drapes fitted. The room on the other side of the salon, which had always been a decent sized guest room with it’s own bathing room had been turned into Dolokhov’s suite – it contained a canopied bed dressed in covers featuring a distinct peacock blue coloured silk and also housed his clothing – he may not decide to use the bed, but he would make daily use of the long, oval mirror and banquette - which unknown to him on this first appraisal would forever become known as ‘the Captain’s clothes horse’ by the staff.  
Fedya scooped his wife into his arms, smiling broadly and showered her face with warm, soft kisses; punctuating each with a deliciously husky, “I love you!”  
He immediately relaxed in his new surroundings; dressing for their dinner was easy with a competent and eager valet on hand for him. He noticed that Elizabeth did not close the interlocking doors between their rooms and he enjoyed the sense of freedom he was offered at being able to walk in on her applying her scent to her wrists, or ask an opinion about his waistcoat when she was having her hair dressed by her maid.  
Little did they know as their marriage began but it was an intimacy which would always remain throughout their marriage, and his own bed sheets would never require washing, merely airing!  
_______________  
Take me for a ride,” Elizabeth demanded of her husband after a leisurely breakfast. “I want to show you all of the park.”  
Dolokhov considered the suggestion and found himself excited with the prospect of some galloping across free land accompanied by his wife. The fact that she hadn’t mentioned his failings in their bed the previous night warmed him….it wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive…..Lord, he wanted to take her with every fibre of his soul, but something was preventing him from snapping that cord of arousal next to her, even though he had begun to feel some of his virility returning.  
Elizabeth had been a little concerned, but not surprised about their wedding night. She had felt his lack of arousal when they had pressed together in passionate embraces which back at the start of their relationship would have caused him to be rigid against her hip and belly. She had never asked about what the count and countess had forced him to do….she remembered the shameful look on his face when she’d tried to remove his trousers that night he finally left them – and she’d read enough literature which gave accounts of activities she wasn’t sure were possible. The fact that his kisses and caresses were so full of passion and need gave her hope that eventually what ever the barrier was to him becoming fully aroused would give way, and she’d have her Dolokhov back again.  
The fact that she always found him impossibly handsome when on horseback had nothing to do with her suggestion for a ride…..she felt they both needed a physical release following the relative formality of the wedding – it would also allow the staff the opportunity to properly fix and tidy the house.  
She met him at the stables a while later and sighed as he swung himself effortlessly into the saddle of a black mare, one that he had first encountered on his first visit to Elizabeth’s home, known in the stables as Delilah, he had taken a liking to and requested as his mount. Elizabeth was hoisted into her saddle and arranged herself with her feet tucked into the stirrups on her left, the fabric of her deep blue riding habit falling in rippling folds across the flanks of her mount, a grey she called Thunder.  
Dolokhov regarded Elizabeth; the fact that she was now Mrs Fyodor Middleton Dolokhov gave him immense pride and he brought his mount around to her right so that he could get as close as possible to her as they walked out of the stableyard. Once safely into the fields she glanced at him, “Race you to the trees,” and clicked her horse into a gallop, catching him slightly off guard and at a loss. He spurred Delilah into a brutal pursuit and by half way had managed to catch and pass his squealing and smiling wife.  
He reached the trees and turned, panting as Elizabeth slowed to a canter. The warm and breathless smile he cast her stirred a feeling within her….the warm and breathless feeling stirred a feeling within himself too.  
She guided him at a more sedate pace around the perimeter of the estate – he hadn’t quite grasped how large the park was, and how many small homes were located within it. Many of the local estate workers paused, or even came out of their houses to greet Miss Middleton and their new ‘master in waiting’. There were warm smiles and shouted congratulations and best wishes; one local man even thrust a crudely made wooden ‘loving spoon’ upon them…..Elizabeth was touched, Dolokhov was moved beyond belief – these people adored his wife as much as he did.  
“Fast way back?” Elizabeth asked with a wry rise of an eyebrow. Dolokhov smiled and reached his hand towards her to cup her chin in his gloved hand, whilst adjusting his position in his saddle before he answered;  
“You’ll lose!” he grinned as he shouted ‘YAH!” and galloped towards the stables. Elizabeth laughed at how he had fooled her and followed at as fast a pace as she dared. She enjoyed him beating her; it meant she could fix her gaze on his dark hair streaming out behind him and cast her eyes over his firm thighs and muscular buttocks pressed against the saddle.  
She was still giggling as she entered the yard and walked Thunder towards the stable block.   
Dolokhov had dismounted and was regarding her with a powerfully erotic stare. Elizabeth shuddered a little; the effect of his intense stare was causing increased breathlessness and she could feel her breasts straining against the fabric of her habit.  
He came around to help her dismount; his strong hands sliding around her waist and lingering after she was safely to the floor. His eyes had not yet left hers and the smouldering desire within them was almost unbearable. One of his hands slipped downwards across her buttocks, the other remained at her slender waist, fixing her body towards his.   
She left her hands resting on his shoulders and gazed adoringly into his eyes. He dipped his mouth to her neck; the spot below her ear which he knew was her downfall, and sucked at the damp skin he found; releasing a small, animalistic groan as he felt her fingers dig into his shoulders with need.   
Burying his face into the crook of neck, his teeth now joining his exploration of flesh, he pressed her into his body and she felt the unmistakable firmness of his desire for her. She sobbed; both with relief and with need and dragged his head from her chest in order to signal her readiness.  
He saw the look of pure seduction and sensuality in her eyes and returned it.   
Dolokhov was back; he was resurrected and virile once more.  
“Leave us,” he growled in a voice thick with lust, and the stable hands made their way out of the stable block.  
No sooner had the door been latched shut than they were at each other’s clothing; ripping and tearing at fastenings in order to free enough skin to satisfy their needs. Dolokhov pulled Elizabeth towards the fresh straw of an awaiting pen and she pushed him back into the stone wall, her hands shameless in their need to remove his clothing.  
She began to hoist up her skirts for him, but he shook his head and huskily ordered her,   
“Naked, I want us to feel each other’s skin,” and he turned her to remove her gown and chemise with dextrous speed.  
She pulled off her stockings and garters as he flung off his boots, she then helped, or somewhat hindered his removal of his trousers and braies as he laughed and licked at her freed breasts. His touch on her body was like a lightening bolt and she sobbed afresh when his erection was freed from it’s restraint and she saw him….it had been so long since she’d seen him stiff and rigid, she’d forgotten his size and was now a little concerned about how he would manage to slot inside her.  
They tumbled into the straw, devouring each other with their hands, mouths, tongues and eyes. They were desperate for each other – he was in urgent need to prove to himself that he was virile once more, and he wanted to claim Elizabeth as he had dreamed of since first setting eyes upon her; she wanted to know him fully; to be a true wife to him, and to experience a sensation of being filled and owned by him.  
She was expecting it to be painful, but her arousal had made her wet and as he slid the tip of his cock against her entrance he lubricated himself with her sticky juices. He ceased his trail of brutal kisses against her neck and breasts so that he could pierce her eyes with his own sensual gaze. The look she returned left him in no doubt of her consent and he slid his arm down; his hand splayed against her soft buttocks to steady her.  
She could feel him pressing against her entrance; he felt intimidating and hot; his eyes never leaving hers. A slight jolt from his hips together with a pressing forwards of his hand against her rear saw him push inside her. Elizabeth tensed at the unfamiliar intrusion and found herself breathless; almost wincing with slight discomfort and pain. He maintained eyes contact with her; reading her face for signs that he should stop. She stretched a little and he withdrew slightly so that on his second thrust he went deeper, pushing her buttocks towards him but still not filling her fully. Elizabeth began to become accustomed to the feeling of being stretched open by him and as he pulled back in order to push further within her found that it was becoming more pleasurable.  
Dolokhov was having difficulty restraining himself from slamming himself inside his wife. Her tight hole was like heaven to him; the fact that he knew that he was the only man to have shared this with her made him feel slightly hypocritical, but also like he had won the greatest prize. He sensed that she was becoming more comfortable with him inside her, and he tried to hold himself back – he knew that for her first time this would be slightly painful, but he wanted her to at least partially enjoy him.  
Elizabeth could see a change developing behind Fedya’s eyes; like a switch had been flicked, and as she felt his hip bones against her thighs knew that he was fully inside of her. His movements were becoming more rapid and his length was rubbing against her insides in a way which, without the slight pain of unfamiliarity, could become quite pleasurable she thought.  
Feeling his heavy sack slap against her as he buried himself fully within her made him lose all sense of restraint, and Dolokhov knew that he would spend himself quickly – part of him needed to check that this part of the process was fully working – and he felt a tightening at the base of his spine as he worked himself with increasing pace in and out of his wife’s tight hole.  
He arched his head and back as he shouted his release before spurting a torrent of his salty seed within her. Elizabeth found herself highly aroused by watching him lose control so wantonly, and the sensation of his cock throbbing with tension before she felt a gush of warmth definitely took the edge off the discomfort.  
“I love you, Elizabeth,” he panted, huskily into her ear as he withdrew from her and lay, satiated beside her in the straw.  
Elizabeth smiled and stroked his back with the tips of her fingers. Her eyes were shining with love.  
“I’m sorry if I wasn’t as patient as I should be……..I promise it will be more pleasurable the next time,” he kissed her nipple which was adjacent to his lips.  
Elizabeth giggled, “It wasn’t as painful as I had been led to believe,” and she rolled over to gaze adoringly at him.  
They remained, tangled in each other’s arms for some time.   
“Shall we go into the house? …..maybe we should dress for dinner?” Dolokhov suggested, punctuating his suggestions with soft kisses along Elizabeth’s shoulders.  
She twitched at the sensual caress of his lips and moustache on her skin and rolled onto her back, shaking her head at his suggestion. Dolokhov inhaled deeply as he felt her slender hand grasp his cock and smiled as it sprang to life beneath her strokes.   
“ Again,” she whispered into his ear; her hot breath sending shivers along his spine, and he growled with renewed desire for her.  
This time, Elizabeth was more knowledgeable and prepared. She adjusted her body, ready for him and opened her slender legs wide to encourage and accommodate him. His own release was still oozing from her pink lips as he slid his length against her, and with the slightest movement of his hips he slipped inside her almost fully straight away, he shuddered and breathed raggedly, smiling with delight as Elizabeth wrapped her legs high and wide around his waist so that she could push back against his thrusts; helping to steer him towards the depth and rhythm which was exciting her.  
Dolokhov felt enflamed, the fact that Elizabeth was giving herself so freely and fully to him was incredibly erotic. She was gripping tightly to his back and shoulders, her small nails digging into him as she tried to pull him closer. As he pushed himself up a little further she panted his name, which sounded like heaven.  
The slight shift in position had caused him to strike against an exquisite spot within her; she wanted him to repeat his movements and hit it again and again, it was so pleasurable a sensation. Without the pain of the first time she was completely absorbed in the joyous feeling of her Fedya filling her so fully and completely. She was long past worrying whether her actions were at all ladylike and she dragged her nails into his buttocks, almost trying to push him further inside her than he could possibly be.  
Dolokhov couldn’t believe the passion Elizabeth was showing for him; it was wildly exciting to him and he gloried in the fact that he was giving her pleasure. He splayed his strong hands against one of her thighs, encouraging it higher and him deeper, and he quickened his pace as she began to moan his name repeatedly.  
When he saw her head fall back against the straw he also felt a tightening and clenching of her walls around him, and her orgasm detonated the same release and ecstasy for him within her. They clung to each other, shuddering and steering each other through the tumult of emotions surging through their bodies. Eventually they were just smiling at each other, damp and glistening from exertion and breathless.  
“Shall we go riding every day, husband?” Elizabeth eventually asked, mischievously.  
Dolokhov grinned against her cheek, “If you wish, wife!” and he kissed her and began to move away.   
She regarded him with questioning eyes.  
“These poor horses still haven’t had their saddles removed…..and they certainly deserve some form of gratitude…..don’t you think?” he grinned at her. “And unless you’d like me to call the stable boys in with you looking like…..that…….we’d probably better go inside….”  
Elizabeth squealed as he slapped her playfully on the rump.  
He dressed her – there was something charming about him carefully lacing her into her stays and fastening her gown – and they made their way inside in the later afternoon, still picking bits of straw from his hair. The stable hands heard their footsteps and laughter across the courtyard;  
“Shall we unsaddle ‘em now, Master?” asked Lowery, their self imposed ‘leader’.  
Dolokhov allowed himself to smile – he was indeed the master! “As you were,” he nodded with a wickedly lascivious look in his hooded eyes.


	32. Doting parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter which is all about Elizabeth and Dolokhov's marital bliss....and their life together!  
> Contains some descriptions of their ardour including when she is menstruating, pregnant and breast feeding! But, they love each other; go with it!

After the initial slump in sexual matters it was as if Dolokhov’s body wished to make up for lost time and prove to him on a daily basis that he was sexually able once more….and thankfully Elizabeth was a willing participant in the varied and exciting activities they participated in.  
Servants became used to entering rooms and leaving hastily when it was clear that the master and mistress were involved in sharing each other’s bodies and desires.  
Mealtimes became flexible – indeed cook often chose not to bother plating up food until she had been assured they were both seated in the dining hall – although on several notable occasions her potage du jour still went cold and uneaten!  
When Elizabeth menstruated and suggested Dolokhov would prefer to sleep alone due to her state appalling him, he was quick to assure her to the contrary and although she kept pantaloons on to cover her modesty, he spent significant time pleasuring her breasts against his tongue and soft beard, before urging her hand around his length to bring his release spattering across them, before he licked it up from her – an act she might have found revolting in another, but from him was just a reminder of how wild and untamed he could be.  
Later in their marriage she surprised him by taking him in her mouth and delighted in the sensation of controlling his release and then tasting his salty emission. The look of complete desire on his face each time aroused her greatly, and on occasions they disregarded her courses completely and made love anyway; although both felt a little guilty about the resultant mess for the servants!  
Elizabeth fell pregnant quickly and easily throughout their marriage; 8 times to be exact! And on each occasion her husband found her swelling belly and breasts incredibly erotic. He would lay his head against her and talk softly to the growing babe; often in Russian; and Elizabeth continued to be aroused by him in her pregnant state. After enquiring with her dear friend, Philip Featherstone (who incidentally courted and married Katerina and became a renowned physician based in London) and being assured that it was safe, she encouraged Fedya to continue making love to her, and after an initial level of restraint he put fears aside. They created new ways and positions when her belly became huge and near her time; and on one occasion his cock buried deep within her resulted in her waters breaking and a swift delivery of child number 7…..the baby came so quickly Elizabeth wasn’t sure whether she was panting from the labour of birthing or still from the pleasure of orgasm!  
When his first child was brought into the world he had rushed into the chamber as soon as he heard the strangled cries of his son – he insisted on wiping the tiny creature down himself and kissed the sweat from Elizabeth’s brow through his own tears of delight and happiness.  
Theodore Ivan Dolokhov was followed by Nicholas Charles, Stephen Pierre, Marcus George and Christian Michael. When his first daughter came along he sobbed and called her his darling princess; although she was actually named Viktoria Elizabeth. She was followed by two further little girls, Sarah Emilia and Katherine Maud (although they were always known in the family as Emmy and Kitty).  
He gloried in Elizabeth as a mother; the sight of her suckling their babies always aroused him; and she herself found it fascinating that her babies’ suckles at her breast created a loving and cherishing feeling compared to the raw passion and sexual attraction she felt when her husband took his turn as he often did – when attending a party shortly after having Theo she was very grateful however, as when her milk begun to ooze from her full breasts he hastily found them a secluded room and drank her dry….and then they fucked like sex starved newlyweds (resulting in Nicholas 9 months to the day later!)  
And so it was that Fedya’s life was well and truly full and complete. Elizabeth’s parents lived long enough to welcome all of their grandchildren, and they enjoyed their prolonged visits to Middleton Hall as it was filled with childish laughter.  
Elizabeth and Fedya were doting and trusting parents; they indulged their children and showered them with love; but also fostered a recognition of responsibility in them. Fedya taught the boys to use a sword and how to shoot; and when his daughters were old enough to join in he taught them too!  
He was a familiar face in their lives, reading to them from storybooks, telling them stories about Russian winters and teaching them all to ride the many ponies they were provided with throughout their lives.  
Elizabeth could not have been happier – her husband was devoted to his family; adored and worshipped her as often as they were able and indulged her thirst for knowledge. She continued her mother’s love for art and both purchased and commissioned several pieces, including a naked painting of herself which she presented to him for his 40th birthday. He kept it in a wooden case in his dressing room and looked upon it often. Indeed, after finding out the artist (a talented woman originally from Italy) he commissioned a partner piece for Elizabeth. The finished charcoal sketch showed only his bare torso and head, but the lascivious and sensual look, together with the deeply accurate musculature which looked out from the frame caused Elizabeth to breathe deeply each time she gazed upon it (from her bathtub!)


	33. The end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final chapter, further into their married life, Dolokhov has to deal with his daughters growing up.

The years had done nothing to diminish Dolokhov’s attractiveness, and Elizabeth felt that the spattering of silver highlighting his still abundant locks if anything made him even more handsome.  
The lay beside each other in bed, as they always had since their marriage. They still enjoyed the sensation of their naked skin on one another and their love for each exploring one another had not diminished over time.  
Elizabeth was trying not to laugh as her husband continued to ‘rant’;  
“And he has the audacity to ask about Viktoria……MY Vicky…my princess…..how I held my tongue I’ll never know!” he continued, until Elizabeth could stifle her giggles no longer. He paused and regarded her laughter with perplexed amusement, inviting an explanation.  
“Darling, don’t you remember what it was like to be like him? Having to meet the father of a girl you are interested in getting to know….” But at this point he cut her off again,  
“I’ll not have the likes of him getting to know my beautiful girl!” he hissed as Elizabeth urged him to quieten his voice. She trailed her fingers from where she had pressed them to his lips and entangled them in the lush hair at his chest, causing him to stifle a groan at the familiar arousal she still created in him.  
“Dearest Fedya….was my father not the kindest and most loving and accepting man towards you? “ she punctuated the statement with a kiss to his chest, “And did he not give you hope, rather than an ogre like stare?” her lips pressing against his still firm, but slightly widened belly.  
Dolokhov hated that his wife was right…..he’d been the image of a demonic tyrant when young Anthony Hardshaw had been introduced to him after Elizabeth arranged for him to come and visit at Viktoria’s request. He’d wanted to warn the brute off his girl….she may be 16, but to him she was still the tiny girl with ringlets who he carried around, and who called him ‘Papa Bear.’  
Elizabeth continued her gentle, yet intense kisses across his chest and came to his neck, and his weak spot; just below his ear. Sucking on it firmly he began to relax and relent his ranting.  
“But I want him to be a little afraid of me,” he relented, sounding almost like a petulant boy – it was both sweet and sexy.  
Elizabeth huskily whispered into his ear, “I am sure he is terrified,” she continued speaking in a more normal and rational tone; “The inevitable is going to happen dearest; they are growing up; and young people will naturally want to do all of those things that you surely cannot chastise them for! You certainly didn’t rein yourself in!”  
Dolokhov turned to face his wife, “Exactly! I know precisely what I was like at the age of that Hardshaw fellow, and in this very room!”  
Elizabeth laughed as she could sense her husband returning to the same thread – like a dog with a bone.  
He continued, “She’s my dearest girl….and he’ll only be the first; mark my words – just like you; she’ll have proposal after proposal…Oh God, she's going to be JUST like you isn't she?!?!”  
Elizabeth rather enjoyed seeing her husband this worked up; he had a slightly wild look in his eyes; she pulled up the covers slightly and placed her hand on his shoulder;  
“Fedya, dearest…..less talking now….hmm?” and she pushed him firmly, but sensually beneath the covers.  
Her heart leapt, as it always did, as he sighed and crawled down her body; his eyes staring up at her now were wild in a different way. He growled as he positioned himself and huskily agreed:  
“You win…..for now!” and his mind was taken off his frustration about young men.  
Elizabeth lay; writhing and moaning as he masterfully displayed his considerable skill with his tongue at her eager pussy. She briefly considered that if and when her daughters did decide to marry; she hoped they would be lucky enough to meet men who would consider their every need in the manner of her own husband.  
Dolokhov was aware, as always of the effect his ministrations were having on his wife as he lapped at her musky juices. Briefly he considered how he would react if he ever discovered a man had done this to his daughter……..he’d punch them so hard they’d beg him to kick them! But then he felt his wife’s delicate toes stretch down to toy with his length; and he forgot to think……

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope anyone who loved Athos got the little link to my favourite of his quotes!  
> Anyone who has actually made it through this in it's entirety - thank you - might have been quicker to actually read War & Peace!


End file.
